


Homecoming

by lilithqueen



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Emil and Lalli get a new job, Hand Jobs, M/M, SOMEHOW THIS GREW A PLOT?, idk how tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/pseuds/lilithqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With their expedition over, Emil and Lalli take full advantage of the perks of being "heroes of the Silent World." Such as privacy, and rooms with beds. In which there is sex and Emil accidentally states their relationship in front of half of Mora -- and, more importantly, Onni.<br/>Part 2: Directly following the debacle at the end of our previous chapter, Emil and Lalli receive a summons to the most dreaded meeting of their lives: Emil's parents.<br/>Part 3: Meeting Swedish high society did not go well. Meeting Emil's parents <em>really</em> did not go well. Norway is much more welcoming.<br/>Part 4: Norway is somewhat more dangerous than Emil was expecting. Lalli saves the day.<br/>Part 5: Emil has a thing about fire. Lalli appreciates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

In Lalli’s opinion, the best thing about the team returning as the acclaimed “Heroes of the Silent World” wasn’t the money (the Västerströms’ opinion), the scientific and historical accolades (Tuuri’s) or the personal glory (Sigrun’s). Those things were nice, admittedly, but as far as he was concerned the _real_ best thing about their return to civilization was the privacy.

Privacy! He was _starved_ for it, and after all the initial greetings and reunions had been gotten out of the way, so was Emil. The “heroes” rated a fine hotel in Mora where they could rest and get ready (for what, Lalli wasn’t sure; he’d stopped paying attention after the third time a very nervous Tuuri had started going over their itinerary), and Emil’s fingers twined tight around his as they stepped into the lobby. It was a big place, shiny with brass and carved wood, and Lalli tilted his head back to get a look at the ceiling. _Hrm. A lot of lights._

Emil drew closer, voice quiet and careful. Lalli was glad for it; he’d been trying to learn Swedish, but it was still difficult to make sense of sometimes. “Do you want me to tell them we’ll be sharing a room?”

He took a breath and nodded, giving Emil’s fingers a quick squeeze. “Thanks.” For once, that had come out in Swedish; accidentally blurting things out in Finnish when he was sure he had a handle on the Swedish words (even with the certain hell that was Swedish grammar) wasn’t something he was keen on repeating.

Emil flashed him a grin, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “I’ll be right back.”

Emil was, in fact, right back; Lalli could have cut through the crowd faster, but Emil had his own methods of dazzling front-desk clerks (Lalli suspected it was the hair) and in no time at all, he was back by Lalli’s side and jangling a new set of room keys. “Room 201. Let’s go!”

They were both carrying their bags. It was two flights of rather steep stairs. This didn’t stop them from nearly sprinting up them; Emil, laughing breathlessly as he fell behind, called out, “You’re cheating!”

Lalli paused at their door and turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Who is cheating? I am faster than you.”

“Then you’re—“ Lalli _thought_ he said “showing off,” but his words weren’t as important as the fact that Emil was unlocking their door and tugging him into the room beyond.

It was a nice room; there was a big wooden bed flanked by two nightstands, open windows (with gold or at least gold-ish curtains), and a soft red carpet. Lalli didn’t bother trying to take in the rest of it, though, because as soon as the door closed Emil dropped his bags, pulled him in close, and started kissing him. “Missed you…”

He didn’t bother responding; he only had one mouth, after all, and there were much better things he could be doing with it besides talking. His bags hit the floor with a thump, freeing his hands to bury in his boyfriend’s hair. It had been days since they’d had the opportunity to do much of anything, and just the realization that they now had time to themselves made his heart race. Emil made a quiet sound into his mouth, and he hummed in response, shifting so Emil could get his hands between them and start working on the fastenings to his jacket.

 _Wait. Crap._ He broke their kiss as a nasty thought occurred to him. “How…much time do we have?”

Emil’s eyes gleamed. “Fancy dinner’s at twenty hundred. We have plenty of time.”

His gaze flicked over to the clock on the wall—seventeen hundred—and he took a deep breath. “…Oh.” His heart felt like it had just done a backflip in anticipation. They definitely had time, and the possibilities made him shiver. He’d been harboring ideas for a while on just what he and Emil could get up to if they weren’t restricted to stolen moments behind trees or squashed uncomfortably in the tank; the thought of finally getting to make some of those fantasies into realities was almost too much.

 _Almost_.

It wasn’t nearly enough to stop him from taking a few steps after his boyfriend as Emil strode over to the bed, shucking his jacket with less care than Lalli had ever seen him display for his clothing before sitting down to yank off his boots and socks with the same efficiency. And then his shirt was going, and Lalli found himself frozen to the spot as he took in the view.

Oh, of course he’d seen Emil with his shirt off. He’d seen rather a lot more than that, really, but that had usually been during decontamination; it was hard to appreciate the view when you were being sprayed by disinfectant or being scrubbed down with far-too-cold water. None of those times had been like _this_ ; none of them had involved golden afternoon light sinking into Emil’s skin, making his hair shimmer like the strands of gold wire he’d once seen in a jewelry shop. In this light, the scars he’d acquired from their adventure gleamed, and Lalli shivered with the urge to slide his fingers over the stripes across his ribs where he’d narrowly avoided being gutted by a giant’s claws. (That had been—well, not the most terrifying few moments of Lalli’s life, but certainly up there on the list. He hadn’t slept much the rest of that week.)

Well. Here and now, there was no reason _not_ to give into that urge, was there? Especially not with the way Emil was looking at him, blue eyes hungry as his fingers went to his waistband.

And so, Lalli pounced.

Emil made a startled noise as he was pinned on the bed, but it quickly turned to a pleasured moan as Lalli pressed himself against him. “Ah, Lalli…” He sucked in a breath as Lalli nipped at his earlobe, breathing out, “You’re still wearing way too many clothes.”

He was, really. Sighing, he pulled away and sat up. _Stupid clothes. Why do buttons have to be a thing that exist—_

Oh, Emil’s hands covering his, and a quiet murmur of “Let me?”

He took a breath, eyes locked on Emil’s, and lowered his hands. He didn’t protest when Emil pressed him back gently so he was lying on the bed, fingers making agonizingly careful work of the rest of his jacket buttons before sliding down to—slowly, too slowly!—creep under the hem of his shirt. At the first touch of warm hands on bare skin, he arched, shivering. “Too slow…”

Emil’s grin was pure wickedness as he slid his hands up Lalli’s stomach and chest, taking his shirt with them. “We have time. Take your shirt off for me?”

He huffed through his nose. “Evil.” But if Emil felt like tormenting him…well, he wasn’t going to complain as long as it meant his boyfriend was still touching him. Obligingly, he wriggled his arms out of his shirt and jacket, half sitting up to shove them to the floor—only half, though, because Emil had moved to work on his pants and the very last thing he wanted to do was distract him. Gods above, but Emil was going slowly. Those wonderful hands hovered just slightly too far away from Lalli’s cock, and he knew that if he raised his hips the smallest fraction he’d get that contact he craved. It was entirely too strong to resist, and he arched, rubbing against him. “Come on, touch me.”

Emil’s hands stilled, resting lightly on Lalli’s hips, and his eyes gleamed brightly. “I will. But I’d like to go slow; you deserve it. Can I?”

Lalli propped himself up on his elbows to glare at him more effectively. “You are _horrible_ and I hate you. But…yes.”

“Mm.” He grinned down at him. “Good.”

Lalli had to help with removing his boots, which was never exactly a graceful maneuver when there was _so much_ of them. It went much faster with help, though, and Emil’s hands were steady as he peeled off first one, then the other, dropping them to the floor with twin clunks before reaching to get his pants and underwear off. Lalli ignored his hands, wriggling out of the entirely-too-snug fabric like a snake. If he did it a bit slower than he normally would, putting on a bit of a show, it was only fair.

He’d been entirely naked in Emil’s presence before, but it had never been like this. Emil was half hard and couldn’t seem to help caressing his thigh, but that was all that was touching him; for a long moment, he simply sat back and looked at him. The look on his face was pure hunger, and his voice was low and rough enough that it took Lalli a moment to make out the words. “You are _beautiful_.”

And then Emil was kissing him, and there was no room in Lalli’s head to work out a response. Emil’s mouth on his skin had a way of making words absolutely unnecessary, anyway; a far more effective way of getting his point across was, as always, through touch. Emil’s hands had wound up on either side of his shoulders, effectively pinning him flat to the mattress; his own slid down the length of Emil’s spine before reaching his waistband and wiggling under the slightly rough fabric to get his pants off. Mostly-naked Emil wasn’t nearly as good as _entirely_ naked Emil.

Emil laughed against his throat, shifting his weight to kick his pants the rest of the way off. “Thanks—oof, hey, watch the leg!”

Lalli winced a little, moving his own knee from where he’d accidentally jabbed Emil’s bad shin. The bruising had been very deep, and even now it was prone to twinging if touched too roughly. “Sorry. Alright?”

“With you? Always.”

Lalli almost rolled his eyes at that, but Emil’s kisses were enough to make him decide to forgive his incredible sappiness just this one time. Emil’s mouth on his, their legs tangled together, Lalli’s hands sliding up and down his sides—it all seemed to make his mind go blessedly quiet for once, turn off the part of him that was always thinking of something else. Right here, right now, there was only the two of them naked on soft sheets. _This is_ so _much better than trying to squeeze into the bunk._

Especially when, as it turned out, Emil felt free to make noises now. They’d always had to be nearly silent before, and when Lalli discovered that teeth sharply applied to Emil’s throat actually made him gasp, he grew almost painfully hard. The sigh of “Ah, _Lalli_ …” which followed didn’t hurt. Experimentally, he latched onto the base of Emil’s throat and started to mouth a mark into the soft skin there, hands tightening on Emil’s waist to tug him closer. That got an actual moan that seemed to reverberate straight to his cock, and a pointed grind of Emil’s hips against his that proved Lalli definitely wasn’t the only one enjoying himself. Lalli couldn’t help but pull away to take a breath at that delicious friction; when Emil slid one hand down to grab his ass, fingers just barely digging into the cleft of his buttocks, he almost gasped himself.

“Ah, Emil…”

He gave him a squeeze, breathing out, “You feel so fucking good, did you know that? Every inch of you. I want to touch you.”

Lalli wriggled at that, rolling his hips and very pointedly digging his nails into Emil’s lower back, just shy of where he knew he liked it. “You don’t need to _ask_.”

“…Well, then.”

Emil’s wicked grin made him shiver; when it was followed by his head lowering to trail teasingly light kisses down his throat and over his collarbone, Lalli almost growled. His boyfriend was a damned _tease_ , was what he was; it’d be far more infuriating if it didn’t feel so good. His lips and tongue traced fire all down his front until—oh, torture, he was pulling away! Pulling away and—oh, resting his weight on his knees, so both hands were free to touch him. That was much better, and Lalli almost rose to follow him—there was a spot on Emil’s throat just begging to be nipped at—when Emil’s fingers trailed down over his chest and stomach, nails leaving a lovely little sting in their wake. Helpless, he fell back and arched into the sensation, eyes sliding shut. “Fucking _hell_ …” Wait, that was in Finnish. Oh, well; Emil’s Finnish was _atrocious_ , but Lalli knew he had a great grip on the profanity.

And a great grip on _him_. Emil’s hands wandered boldly over his body, caressing and squeezing every sensitive spot he could find; when he mouthed at his collarbone, Lalli wondered if it was possible to come from that alone. It was all he could do to hang on, fingers burying themselves in Emil’s hair, as his boyfriend’s hands slid firmly down to his ass again…

…and paused.

Lalli opened one eye and growled at him.

“Can I…?”

Emil’s fingers shifted, pressing lightly against his entrance, and Lalli felt his face heat up. They _had_ done that before, but it had been rushed and slightly frantic and the cleanup had taken more time than the actual act. This would be slower and more careful and probably (hopefully) _more_ than they’d done before, and Lalli shivered in anticipation. “Yes. Please.”

He flushed, pulling away to grab the little tube of lubricant he kept in his jacket pocket. Lalli watched him intently, noting when his hands shook a little and he almost spilled it. And then one lube-slick finger slid in, and he couldn’t help the sound that escaped him; it always felt strange, at first. But then that finger shifted, curled, _pressed_ , and he was startled into a shuddering groan of pleasure.

Emil froze. “Did I hurt you?”

 _‘Did I—‘_ Lalli lifted his head to shoot him what he hoped was an appropriately poisonous look for what had to be the least intelligent question he’d heard all week, punctuating it with a wriggle that only served to send sparks of arousal skittering up his spine.

He took a slow breath. “…Stupid question. Right.”

Lalli pulled Emil’s hair, drawing him in close, and was rewarded with a hungry kiss and a movement of his hand that made his whole body tremble as his finger slid over that spot that made him see stars. It was almost good enough on its own; when it was joined by Emil’s mouth on his shoulder, teeth digging in just enough to sting, he bucked against him. “Ah, just like that, more!”

Emil barely lifted his head. “More?” Another finger joined the first, and as Lalli jolted and cried out he nipped at his collarbone and breathed, “Like that?”

He took a shaky breath, rolling his hips erratically into Emil’s hand. It was almost too much and somehow at the same time not nearly enough. He wanted, _needed_ more; a particularly slow and teasing thrust, and he scratched at Emil’s back in frustration. “Nnnh…ah, fuck, Emil.”

Emil shuddered at the sting of his nails, bracing himself on the bed to press his fingers in deeper. “God, you feel so good, so fucking _hot_ —“

Lalli writhed, arching against him as he was stretched. Like this, their hard cocks were pinned between their stomachs, but at an angle where it was nearly impossible to get the release he craved. He rolled his hips anyway, reveling in the friction. “Emil, please just—fuck me—“

He shivered, wriggling against him, but—frustratingly—maintained his slow, steady pace. His voice shook slightly as he murmured, “Mmm…you’re impatient.”

Lalli huffed into his hair. “Because you’re driving me crazy!” A particular twist of Emil’s fingers made him moan, and he managed to marshal enough Swedish to pant, “Emil, nnngh, please, just do it…”

He paused. “Are you sure? I don’t want to risk hurting you…”

Lalli took a deep breath, tugging Emil’s head up so he could glare into his eyes. “Emil. If you don’t fuck me now, _you_ are going to be the one getting hurt.”

And then Emil ( _grinning_ , the bastard) was settling himself between Lalli’s legs and replacing his fingers with his cock, slow and careful and feeling so much _bigger_ than Lalli had thought, and for what seemed like eternity all he could do was moan as he was stretched wider, raking his nails down Emil’s back. “Fucking—gods, Emil!”

He held himself still for a moment, breathing hard—and then he rolled his hips lightly, thrusting experimentally. “Is this alright?”

“Yes—you are perfect, please just—” He bucked his hips, trying to force Emil’s cock deeper into him. “ _More_.”

He took a deep breath. “…Okay.”

And then Emil started moving, and all Lalli could do was wrap his legs around Emil’s waist and try to move with him. Emil started out slow, fist clenched in the covers for leverage, but when Lalli nipped at his throat he growled and shifted his hips for a better angle, setting a faster pace that sent shockwaves of pleasure through him. Each thrust pulled sounds out of him he hadn’t been aware he could make, gasps and sharp cries and—when Emil lowered his head to start nibbling at his throat—a sound that was almost a growl. “Ah, fuck!”

Emil’s teeth sank into Lalli’s collarbone almost to the point of pain, but his snarl turned to a rough groan when Lalli drew his nails over his shoulders. “ _God_ , Lalli, you’re perfect, you feel—so fucking good. I don’t know what I did to deserve you…”

The urge to make a smart remark occurred to him, but a particularly hard thrust jarred all thoughts of coherency in any language out of his head. “Nngh…oh, fuck, that’s good, right _there_ —ah, harder!” Emil obliged, setting the bedsprings to creaking under them, and Lalli had to let his head fall back in order to concentrate on meeting those thrusts with his own movements. Hard and fast and perfect but not _enough_ , he wasn’t entirely sure he could come just from this—and then Emil shifted his weight a little, reaching between them to wrap his hand around Lalli’s cock, and he thrust savagely into his grip. It was all almost too much, and when Emil’s fingers rippled he fell over the edge with a scream, shuddering and trembling as Emil growled his name and came deep inside him.

Emil dropped his head to his shoulder, hair spilling out over Lalli’s throat; for a long moment, they simply breathed together. Lalli could feel both their hearts racing in time, and when he sighed contentedly Emil tilted his head to nuzzle at his throat. “You’re incredible.”

He took a breath, slowly uncurling his legs from Emil’s waist. Words seemed to be required at this stage. “…Wow.”

“Mmm, yeah.” Shifting his weight, he pulled out, shivering as Lalli arched under him. “How…how are you feeling?”

He couldn’t help but smile at Emil’s concerned expression, reaching up to stroke his hair back from his face. “Wonderful.” Admittedly, he was also sticky, exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to stay in bed forever, but it was the best kind of exhaustion. Emil’s body was a hot, heavy weight on him, and Lalli gave into the urge to pet his side. “Mrr, what time is it?”

Emil sighed and rolled partly onto his side, arms sliding around him even as he cast a glance at the wall clock. “Oh. Crap.”

That was not a good sign. “What?”

He winced, already pulling away. “We have dinner in an hour and we should probably um…get dressed. And clean up. And shower.”

Lalli rolled over to the other side of the bed, grimacing both at the idea of moving and at the several new twinges that were making themselves known all down his legs. “Mrrrr…do I _have_ to wear a suit?” Objectively, his suit wasn’t too bad—charcoal gray, free of anything that scratched or pulled or felt wrong—but it would mean wearing a tie, and he _hated_ wearing ties.

Emil glanced hopefully over at him. “….I’ll help? You’ll look incredible, trust me.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Alright.”

\--

The air gleamed with all the jewels and gold braid on the guests’ outfits. Brandy and beer and vodka and that rarest of alcohols, champagne, flowed in abundance. Emil should have been thrilled, relieved, at the return to his former station.

He hated it.

For this illustrious occasion, the best and brightest of Nordic society had been invited to Mora’s town hall. The governor had given a speech waxing poetic on the bravery and cunning displayed by their expedition; between the lingering attention paid to his aunt and uncle’s roles and phrases like “stunning example of multinational cooperation” and “unflinching bravery of our Norwegian, Danish, and Finnish allies”—as though their only function had been to back up Emil’s efforts—he’d been twitching with shame in his seat. The only thing stopping him from sinking into his chair in pure mortification had been Lalli half-dozing on his shoulder (and, admittedly, Sigrun punching him cheerfully in the arm and whispering rude comments not quite under her breath).

After that embarrassment, the governor had given the signal for the cocktail hour to begin. Tuuri, looking very pretty in her red dress, had snatched up Reynir (awkwardly poured into a dark blue suit, hair stubbornly trying to escape from the attempt at a neat braid that Emil had tried to wrestle it into) in order to, in her words, “rescue Onni from his admirers,” and Sigrun had grabbed Emil’s arm and all but dragged him over to meet her parents. Since she had done this by yelling across the entire room for them to “meet my right-hand warrior!”, Emil had still been blushing when the Generals Eide had strode up to him.

Still, talking to the Eides had at least been entertaining. They’d been fiercely proud of their daughter, and had laughingly clapped him on the back when asking about his own exploits. He’d felt more at home then than he did now, standing awkwardly at the refreshment table in a tailored blue suit with a cold glass of wildly expensive and intensely fizzy champagne in his hand. He couldn’t see Lalli’s silvery hair in the crowd, but that didn’t mean his boyfriend wasn’t around; he was good at hiding, _needed_ to hide, when he was feeling overwhelmed. Still, Emil desperately wished the mage was by his side.

It wasn’t like he had many other _actual_ friends. His old Cleanser unit had been invited, of course, but they hadn’t approached him yet. _Probably using ‘hey, did you know I worked with_ the _Emil Västerström before he was famous?’ as an opening line to rub elbows with the mighty. I’m just a convenient stepping stone._ The rest of the team was scattered around the ballroom, deep in their own conversations; even from where he was standing, he could hear Sigrun boasting proudly from within a knot of her Norwegian countrymen. He took a sip of champagne and tried to look like he was enjoying it _. I’d rather be back in bed with Lalli. Maybe I could find him and we could sneak out…_

A drift of high-ranking guests gathered around the alcohol, chattering amongst themselves. Snippets of conversation reached his ears; he let them wash over him. “And _I_ heard that the little Finnish savage they were forced to bring along as a night scout calls himself a _mage_. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Imagine, being so superstitious!”

Emil’s world snapped into focus. The man who had spoken—who was even now laughing derisively at the idea of “pagan magic”—was tall and slim and wearing a tie pin set with diamonds. After a moment, Emil recognized him; this, then, was the governor’s son Nils. He set his glass down carefully on the table and strode up to him, shouldering one of his friends aside roughly. “ _What_ did you say about Lalli Hotakainen?”

“Oh, I, er—” Clearly not expecting anyone to burst into the conversation, Nils swallowed hard and took a few steps backwards.

Emil felt his patience start to fray, and clenched his fists almost without realizing it. “By all means, do tell me. I hate entering a conversation uninformed.”

“Well, it’s only the truth—” He laughed nervously, casting a glance at his friends, who had already started backing away. “I mean, _really_. Magic, in this day and age? You were there, you must know; was it all a bunch of trickery? Everyone knows there’s no such thing as magic.” He paused, tilting his head. “Everyone _sane_ , anyway. Is that little Finn really as crazy as they say?”

This came at a natural lull in the room’s noise level, and Emil was vaguely aware of others turning to take notice of the confrontation. He was fairly sure that the gray-haired wall in his most peripheral vision was Onni heading over with murder in his eyes. It paled in importance next to the rage howling through his veins, however, and he was in motion before he could think. There was a meaty thud as his fist crashed into Nils’ face, and a liquid shattering of glass as he reeled back into the table. Someone gasped, but Emil ignored it. “ _Never talk like that about my boyfriend again_. Do you hear me? If it hadn’t been for Finnish magic, we would have all _died_.”

Nils squawked something, but Emil was already turning away, rubbing his fist. His plan to make a reasonably graceful exit to the bathroom to ice his knuckles came to a halt when he came face-to…well, face-to-neck with Onni, who was glowering down at him. He froze, feeling unaccountably like a rabbit caught in the gaze of an owl. _Shit. Shit. We’ve never even been introduced—did he hear me call Lalli my boyfriend?_ “Um.”

Onni’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Emil _thought_ he was smiling. “I approve.”


	2. Meeting The Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly following the debacle at the end of our previous chapter, Emil and Lalli receive a summons to the most dreaded meeting of their lives: Emil's parents.

In Emil’s opinion, the best thing about their rooms in the finest hotel in Mora was that nobody bothered them. All their friends knew better; even Reynir had very quickly learned to wait after knocking. If he and his boyfriend wanted to laze around in their bathrobes ordering room service or try to make love on every convenient flat surface, there was nothing to stop them.

There certainly weren’t any social events for them to attend. After the incident two days ago, it had seemingly been decided that the Heroes of the Silent World must require more time to recover from their expedition so far from civilized society, and no invitations had been forthcoming. Siv and Torbjörn had been incensed at him, but Emil couldn’t bring himself to feel bad. That man had _insulted Lalli_ , and that couldn’t stand.

It had turned his knuckles a spectacular shade of yellowish-purple, though. He lifted his hand for a better look at it; at the sudden loss of contact, Lalli rolled over to look at him sleepily. “Mrr?”

He sighed and dropped his hand, running his fingers through Lalli’s hair. “Nothing.”

Lalli purred quietly, nestling into his shoulder, and wrapped his arm around his waist. Clearly, he planned on heading right back to sleep.

Emil liked that idea himself. He’d begun to understand Lalli’s love of sleep over the past few days; his boyfriend turned out to be an especially energetic and demanding lover when he had the chance, and Emil felt like his limbs were made out of the most pleasant sort of lead. Laying like this, warm and protected in Lalli’s arms, he wasn’t sure which heartbeats were his. Nestling further into the mattress, he closed his eyes and let himself doze.

Only to be startled out of it by an imperious series of knocks on the door, and a crisp voice calling, “Message for Emil Västerström!”

He growled. “ _What?_ ”

Now the person on the other side sounded hesitant. Good. “Ah…you have a letter. I’ll just…slide it under the door then, shall I?”

“Thanks.” Sighing, he sat up. If it was a letter, it probably wasn’t urgent, but it was a good idea to see what they wanted.

Unfortunately, the movement woke Lalli up, and the mage huffed grumpily and tried to tug him back down to the bed. “What is it…?”

Reluctantly, Emil disentangled himself from Lalli’s arms and padded naked across the carpet to pick up the letter. “It’s probably not importa—” The return address seared itself into his vision, and he jolted with shock—and rage. “ _Now_ they write to me?”

Lalli blinked, propping himself up on one elbow. “Who’s it from?”

He grimaced, shoving his hair back from his face. “My parents.”

“…Ew.” Lalli flopped back on the bed with a _fwumph_ , eyes sliding shut again.

Emil sat down on the edge of the mattress, ripping the envelope open. The letter was written in his father’s usual precise handwriting, and his heart sank as he scanned the contents. “They…say they’re sorry for not writing to me sooner, and they hope I can visit this Saturday…fuck. _Fuck_.”

Lalli sat up at that, curling himself catlike around him and resting his chin on his shoulder. The Swedish must have been nearly incomprehensible to him, but he squinted at it anyway. “So don’t go. They haven’t talked to you in years; you told me you don’t like them, anyway. Stay here instead.”

He wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. But… “I can’t. They found out about us—someone must have told them! Argh, this sucks. They want to meet you, too.”

“Mrrrr…”

Emil closed his eyes, as if that would help somehow. “I know. But—they’re my _parents_.”

Lalli huffed softly in his ear. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.” He leaned back into Lalli’s arms, reaching up to lace their fingers together. “But…please? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“…You’d better.”

\--

Saturday loomed entirely too close for Emil’s liking, and there were still too many things he had to do.

Like convincing Lalli, who was half naked (normally a good thing) and glowering at him balefully from the other side of the bed (never a good thing). “I still don’t want to go. I don’t think you should, either.”

He sighed heavily. The rest of the team had been making dire predictions all week, urging him not to go. Honestly, he didn’t really want to. But…his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them since telling them he was going to be a Cleanser; though they’d never done anything so gauche as argue with him over his choices, their subtle disapproval had permeated their every action towards him, and he hadn’t been surprised when they’d made no effort to contact him during his training. _Aunt Siv and Uncle Torbjörn probably never even told them I was going to the Silent World. I can’t blame Lalli for hating them, but…_ “They’re my mother and father. I should at least try to mend my relationship with them.” He’d even—reluctantly—gotten dressed, which was a real hardship when Lalli had been determined to keep him in bed.

Lalli folded his arms across his chest. “They _left_ you. And now that you have money, they want to talk to you again! _I_ don’t think they deserve to know you.”

“They’re still my parents!” He winced as Lalli flinched at the volume. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. Please, can we just…can we at least try? I’m sure they’ll be nice—and if they’re not, we can just leave.”

Lalli frowned, eyes narrowing. “ _Mrrrr_.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “…Please? I don’t want to do this without you.”

The sigh seemed to come from the depths of Lalli’s soul. “Fine. Okay. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That” was the charcoal suit he’d worn to the dinner, now hanging in the closet. Emil quietly mourned; true, it was probably _too_ formal for meeting his parents, but Lalli looked incredibly, irresistibly hot in it. “Okay. But you probably should wear _a_ suit—yeah, ties suck, but my parents are stuffy.” He couldn’t help but grin at Lalli’s expression. “Yeah, and if _I’m_ saying it…”

“What’s wrong with sweaters? I like sweaters.”

He made a face. “Too casual, I’m sorry. My parents will think you’re…” He paused, trying to figure out how to explain the minds of people to whom wealth and appearance meant everything, who judged you based on your connections to society. It still felt surreal sometimes, now that he was around them again, to think that he’d once truly been one of them. “Common. Which is bad, trust me.”

Lalli looked offended by the very idea. “Hrmph! _Fine_ , I’ll wear a stupid suit.”

Emil dared to risk a small smile. “I’ll help you with the tie. How about the blue one?”

“…Okay.” Grumbling, he turned away to start getting properly dressed.

Emil couldn’t help but watch him; the easy grace in Lalli’s every movement had always drawn his eye, even before he’d admitted to himself that he liked him as much more than a friend. And Lalli _did_ clean up very well; though he disliked wearing them, well-tailored suits made his slenderness striking instead of worrying. When he started glaring at himself in the mirror on the inside of the closet door, fumbling with his tie, Emil stepped around the bed to bat his hands away. “Let me.”

Lalli held himself perfectly still, breathing out slowly. “…Thanks.”

His hands trembled a little. With Lalli’s warmth this close, he was acutely aware of how much they weren’t touching, and he wanted nothing more than to pull him in and kiss that soft mouth, strip his clothes off and steer him back over to the bed and—well. He _wanted_ to do a lot of things, none of which they had time for. Instead, he forced himself to focus on making Lalli’s tie perfect. _Don’t look up. If I look him in the eyes, we are never going to leave on time._

Unfortunately for his resolve, Lalli was talking, and his voice held a purring tone Emil was very familiar with. “Mm, Emil, what time is the train?”

The tie’s knot was as symmetrical as it was ever going to be. He swallowed hard, eyes flicking up to Lalli’s before he could stop himself. “We should leave soon, or we’ll be late.”

Lalli smiled, slow and heated, and he felt his cock twitch. “We still have some time, don’t we?”

“…What exactly are you suggesting?” If they left now, it would give them a comfortable margin in which to catch the train, but the gleam in Lalli’s eyes suggested he had a plan. And Lalli’s plans were _always_ worth entertaining. (Well, almost. There had been an attempt to share a shower that had mostly just left both of them wet, cranky, and slightly bruised.)

And his boyfriend’s grin was delightfully wicked, too. “This.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to protest as Lalli steered him up against the bed, nudging him gently so he automatically sat down—and then Lalli fell to his knees in one smooth, sinuous motion, and Emil started to feel a little faint. When he smirked up at him and licked his lips, a shiver of anticipation ran through him. “Um. Really, we…”

“Please?”

 _Oh, god in heaven_. Mutely, he nodded and spread his legs a little wider.

And then Lalli was undoing his fly and taking his cock in his mouth, and he cried out at the wet, delicious heat of it. One hand slid up his thigh, thumb digging into his hipbone in what he could recognize as a pointed command not to move too much—a difficult thing to resist when Lalli was doing wicked things with his tongue and seemed determined to fit as much of him in his mouth as possible. Especially when his free hand came up to caress his balls and the base of his shaft, satisfyingly firm.

Coherent thought fled. When his hand sought Lalli’s hair, tangling in the soft strands, he only barely had the mental presence to not pull. His world, all important sensations, narrowed to Lalli’s mouth and hands. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Lalli actually started humming from somewhere back in his throat, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. With Emil helpless against his ministrations, he could bob back and forth at the exact pace he wanted—and the pace he was apparently in the mood for was fast and hungry, each downward pass swallowing a little more of Emil’s cock.

“Fuck, I—” His fist clenched in the blankets, desperate for something he could hang onto without pulling Lalli’s hair. “Lalli, god, you’re perfect, that feels so fucking good, don’t _stop_.” He knew he was probably babbling, and his entire body trembled as he fought the urge to move, to fuck his face with abandon.

The humming changed pitch, becoming almost a growl. And then Lalli shifted slightly, the hand that had been playing with Emil’s balls going to his knee and pinning him in place as he took his cock nearly to the root before pulling back slightly and doing it again. And again. And _again_ , enveloping him in wet sucking heat. The growling wasn’t a steady noise; it wavered and deepened, sending the most incredible vibrations down his cock and racing along his nerve endings.

“Lalli, please—god, just like that, more—” And then he was coming, hips shuddering as he spent himself halfway down Lalli’s throat, mind blank of anything but pleasure for a few shattering moments.

He honestly hadn’t expected Lalli to swallow—never really expected it, no matter how many times he did it. His boyfriend looked incredibly smug as he pulled away, wiping his mouth carelessly on the back of his hand. His lips were red and slightly swollen, and he slid his gaze up Emil’s body almost possessively. “Mm. Good, huh?”

Emil took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, trying to remember how to put words together. “That was…fuck, that was incredible.” _And I didn’t take care of him yet…_ “Get up here.”

Lalli smirked at him, but he was already eeling his way up and straddling Emil’s thighs, slipping his arms over his shoulders. “I thought we had to go.”

Emil almost growled, tugging him close with a hand on the small of his back. Lalli was lean and hot and deliciously aroused in his lap, and he couldn’t resist. His fingers made short work of the fabric straining over Lalli’s cock, closing firmly around the hard flesh. “ _I don’t care_.”

He wriggled, rolling his hips into Emil’s hand. “You said…mmm…” His eyes were hazy with lust; when Emil squeezed slightly, he groaned.

Emil grinned fiercely up at him. “I wouldn’t be a decent boyfriend if I left you like _this_ , would I?” Lalli’s cock was a firm, heavy weight in his hand, and he took a moment to stroke him slowly. He knew every inch almost as well as his own, but it was never a bad idea to tease him a little. “Mm, is this all for me?”

Lalli huffed and shifted his weight, seeking more friction. “You bastard, don’t _tease_ me.” Fingers found their way into Emil’s hair, tugging it sharply.

He leaned up to steal a kiss—it was always a little weird, tasting hints of himself in Lalli’s mouth, but worth it to not only hear but _feel_ his boyfriend moan as he started pumping his cock in earnest. He’d just had one orgasm, but he felt the first stirring of another wave of desire at that sweet sound. “Yeah, no, I don’t wanna leave you unsatisfied.”

“You’d better not…nngh.” In Emil’s completely biased opinion, Lalli was rarely more beautiful than in moments like this, flushed and rumpled and hard as stone in his grip. As he stroked him, Lalli squirmed and bucked, head falling back when Emil leaned in to press kisses just under his ear. His voice came in breathy gasps. “Ah—Emil—”

“You like that?” Emil knew better to expect an answer; with the way Lalli was writhing, he knew his boyfriend had to be close. Instead, he nipped at his throat, just above his collar, and twisted his wrist just the way Lalli liked it. He was half-hard himself, knew they wouldn’t have time to deal with his arousal again, but it was worth it—entirely so—to feel Lalli come apart in his grip.

It was enough; Lalli came hard, keening as he spilled himself over Emil’s hand. The sharp cry was almost, but not quite, Emil’s name.

It was music to his ears all the same. Emil sighed contentedly, nuzzling his throat. “…Good?”

Lalli took a deep breath, sinking down to relax against him. “Yeah.” And then he winced, shifting. “Mrr…you should change your shirt. And maybe your pants.”

They did make the train, at least. _Barely_.

\--

Emil’s parents lived in a tiny apartment in Östersund, and Lalli hated it on sight. The apartment block loomed over the street, part of a dense block of pre-Rash buildings exactly like it—gray concrete, with some token attempts to brighten it with paint. It looked cramped, claustrophobic, and far too much like some of the buildings they had raided on their expedition into the Silent World.

Emil squeezed his hand. “We’ll be fine. Just…uh, I should warn you, it might be pretty cramped in there.”

He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “As cramped as the cat-tank?”

His boyfriend smiled at him. “Maybe not that bad! But I think they kept a lot of their old furniture, so…yeah.”

He winced. Already, this wasn’t sounding like fun. “Mrrr.”

“My parents have had a few years to learn how to cook, so…maybe the food will be good, at least?” Emil sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Lalli. “I mean, it can’t be as bad as Mikkel’s. Nothing can be as bad as Mikkel’s. Do you think he was melting down the candles to stretch everything out?”

“…” He considered that possibility. “Maybe. Thank the gods for Reynir.” Who was useless at hunting, but had been an absolute blessing when it came to breaking down and preserving what they had caught. Mikkel had threatened to leave him with the cooking duties until it had been proven that the big Dane was the only one who could easily handle their clunky makeshift kitchenware.

“Mm-hmm.” Emil squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and eyed the apartment door as though it were a Beast. “So. Into the breach?”

Lalli took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” And then he paused, tilting his head. “Is that a word? ‘Breach.’ I don’t think it is.”

“Is so!”

By the time they reached the Västerströms’ floor, Lalli’s grin had long since faded, replaced by a bone-deep sense of foreboding. _They’re not going to like me. They’re going to be just as snooty as Emil always said they were. This is_ not _a good place._

When the door opened to them, the solid, bearded man with graying hair on the other side of the threshold bore a close enough resemblance to Emil and Torbjörn that he had to be related, a supposition borne out a moment later when he smiled and extended a hand. “Son, it’s been too long! I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

A good sign, Lalli thought. And then he saw Emil’s face, usually so expressive, close itself off as he shook his father’s hand. “Father, it’s good to see you again. Where’s Mother?”

“In the kitchen; she’s just taking dinner out of the oven.” He turned, calling, “Marta! Emil and his _boyfriend_ are here!” The smile he trained back on Emil and Lalli didn’t seem entirely right. “Please, come in. You must be tired from your journey.”

The narrow, dim hallway beyond was floored with plain wood, inexpertly polished, but there had been an attempt to brighten it up with some dark green carpet. White walls bulged in places from water damage under the paint, but the paintings and old photographs hung on them gleamed in their shiny golden frames. The woman that stepped out of the kitchen to greet them had Emil’s eyes; though her outfit was plain, her earrings were some green stone that caught the light. “Emil! Oh, you’ve gotten so tall! And you’ve lost so much weight!”

Emil stiffened. “Yes, I suppose I have. Mother, Father, I’d like you both to meet Lalli Hotakainen, without whom I wouldn’t be here today.”

“Oh, so this is your…boyfriend.” Lalli thought she was supposed to be smiling as she held out her hand. The expression didn’t meet her eyes. “How nice to meet you, Herr Hotakanin.” Ugh, and she was doing that _thing_ people did, where as soon as they addressed him they slowed their voice down as though talking to a child.

Polite. He had to be polite. He couldn’t bring himself to smile back, but he steeled himself and shook her hand as briefly as possible. It made his skin want to detach itself and crawl up his arm. “Hotakainen. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Her syrupy smile didn’t budge. “Of course. Please excuse me, it’s not every day I meet a young man all the way from Finland. Won’t you take a seat in the main room, and I’ll serve our meal.”

The main room was, as Emil had predicted, cramped. It served as both a living and dining room, and would have been hard pressed to fit a table and four chairs in with the couch and bookcases even if all the furniture had been intended for such a small room—which it clearly hadn’t. The heavy, thickly carved dark wood gleamed in the electric lights, but it bore the scratches and dents of hard use. Emil almost knocked over a few clay statuettes as he squeezed past the doily-covered side table they rested on, pulling out a chair for Lalli before sitting down himself.

Lalli blinked. Without even making an effort, Emil had managed to arrange their seating such that the most natural place for Lalli to sit would place him at Emil’s right hand, safely across the table from his father and within view of the escape route to the hallway. Admittedly, Lalli would have _preferred_ to curl up in Emil’s lap, but apparently you really weren’t supposed to do that in public. So instead, he gave his fingers a quick squeeze before letting go and taking the seat. Even the cutlery and glassware were gilded, a delicate design of vines over the handles of their knives and slender rims around the edges of their glasses.

They weren’t waiting long before Emil’s mother came into the main room, setting down plates of lamb shoulder, potatoes, and drastically overcooked cabbage. “I made your favorite! I know it’s not the same portions you remember, but that’s probably better for you.”

Emil flinched, looking down at his plate and listlessly picking up his fork.

Lalli squeezed his knee under the table, feeling him relax a little at the contact, and dared to risk a comment. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing! Eat, eat, you are _far_ too skinny—would you like beer?”

Lalli nodded and risked a bite of lamb. _Ew_. It was dry as cardboard, but he ate it anyway; it would save him having to talk. And the beer was good enough to wash it out, though it didn’t do much for the taste of the cabbage or the unpleasantly glue-like and undersalted potatoes.

Unfortunately, when he paused to let Emil pour him a refill, Emil’s father chose to break the near-silence of their dinner by asking him a question. “So what did you say you did, Herr Hotakainen?”

“I didn’t.” At Emil’s cough and the light nudge of a foot to his ankle, he cleared his throat. “Ah—I was a night scout.”

Emil’s mother gasped, one hand going to her mouth in surprise. “A night scout! Such a dangerous job, for one so young.”

He blinked, shaking his head. Scouting could be thrilling, terrifying, but it had been hard to feel true _danger_ when he knew that the gods were listening. “Oh, no—it wasn’t dangerous for _me_. I’m…” It took a moment for the word to come to mind; not for the first time, he cursed his command of Swedish. “A mage.”

Emil’s father raised an eyebrow. “…Are you, really?” He sounded curious, at least. “I’ve never heard that Finland had mages.”

Clearly, this called for a much larger swallow of beer. He sort of wished he’d asked for vodka. _Really, is everyone in this country a skeptic?_ “It has. And I am one.”

The slow blink was the same sort of expression Emil wore when he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “ _Really_. Well.” His fork clinked lightly on his plate. “Surely you won’t mind a small demonstration? I’ve never seen magic before.”

He glanced away. “Um.” His grandmother’s words filtered through his memory. _Magic is important; you must never throw it around casually. The gods will stop listening if you invoke them for every little thing, and then where will you be?_ “No.”

Emil winced and set his knife down. “Father, please don’t push him—”

“I’m only asking a question!”

Lalli stood up quickly. “Excuse me.” Emil would be fine; his boyfriend could easily handle social situations like this. _He_ couldn’t. Any moment now, he had a terrible feeling that there would be loudness scraping his nerves raw.

The bathroom was quiet. The bathroom was safe. He leaned his forehead against the wall and breathed slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. _We shouldn’t have come here. We ate, we did what we had to do. I want to go home._ Rubbing his eyes, he straightened with a huff and crept back out into the hall.

As soon as he slid out of the room, raised voices from the main room caught his attention. He froze, flattening himself against the wall, as every part of his mind focused on the task of trying to decipher the rapid-fire Swedish.

“And the boy thinks he’s a _mage_ —” Emil’s father, incredulous.

“He _is_ a mage, Father. A great one. If you can’t believe anything else, believe _that_. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Emil, quieter and tense, and in that moment Lalli adored him.

“So this is who you’ve brought home to meet us? A half-wild little forest…mage?”

“Mother, please. There’s nothing wrong with—”

Emil’s mother huffed angrily. “Mage or not, he’s very _rude_ , I thought. Wouldn’t look me in the eye!”

“That’s just how he is, he doesn’t mean anything by it—”

“He doesn’t even speak real Swedish! I don’t know how you can stand to listen to that _awful_ hodgepodge he calls an accent.”

“Mother! He’s doing very well; Finnish is very different from Swedish, you know that, and he didn’t speak _any_ Swedish when we met.”

“Really? What prompted him to learn? He _knows_ we don’t have any money.”

“Well, I…he _likes_ me…”

“Apparently quite a lot. Why couldn’t you have brought home someone _normal_?”

Lalli sucked in a hard breath, eyes squeezing shut. He hadn’t longed for Keuruu in months, but suddenly he craved the hard comfort of the floor under his old bunk.

Unfortunately, Emil’s father was still talking. Lalli only really understood about half of it, but it was enough. “You’re a hero! We thought you’d meet your end, going into the military—but now you’ve gone into the Silent World and returned! My boy, you’re a _legend_ , the greatest the Västerströms have ever produced since Mia, and you’re wasting your time with this pagan kid from no notable family? You should be thinking of your future, finding someone who’s going to actually benefit you—what about the Nelson girl, her face cleared up well _and_ her family owns a brewery. If you had to find love on your little expedition, why not that skald, instead of some army brat—”

A scraping crash—wood on wood, probably a chair falling over. By the sound of it, Emil was on his feet, and he was furious. “Mother. _Father_. We accepted your invitation because we _hoped_ you’d be welcoming towards us. _Shut up_ , I’m still talking. Lalli is my boyfriend, whether you approve or not, and he’s one of your ‘heroes’ just the same as I am—more! He’s good and clever and _I love him_ , and I will not sit here eating terrible food and listening to you insult him! _Maybe_ if you’re polite, we’ll invite you to the wedding.”

“ _Wedding?!_ ”

Lalli felt like he might actually faint. His legs didn’t seem to want to support him, and he slid gracelessly to the floor. _Emil loves me._ Me _. And he stood up to his awful parents—for_ me _._

Footsteps in the hall, and he blinked up—oh. It was Emil, hand outstretched and trembling. “Hey. You want to head back to Mora on the night train?”

He took his boyfriend’s hand, letting him pull him to his feet, and nearly smiled. “Sure.”

Only once they were on their way down the stairs did Emil speak again. “…I’m…sorry. You must have heard the shouting; my dad can be a real prick. I wouldn’t have come if I thought he was going to react like that.”

He turned away, flushed with shame, and Lalli squeezed his fingers. “It’s okay. I expected that to happen.” Emil’s words loomed between them, and he swallowed hard. _Right. Remember what Tuuri’s always saying. I need to use words._ “…About…what you said…about me…”

Emil flinched, bright red even in the yellow-tinged hall lights. “Ah, yeah, um…look, about that, you can forget it ever happened if you want, I don’t want to presume…”

“ _Emil_.”

Emil stopped, looking at him wide-eyed and nervous.

Lalli pressed him against the wall, capturing his mouth in a gentle, heated kiss. _I’m not sure what I feel yet. I’m just not. But…gods, I don’t want to be without you._


	3. A New Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: Meeting Swedish high society did not go well. Meeting Emil's parents _really_ did not go well. Norway is much more welcoming.

Predictably, their friends did not take the news well. It had started promisingly enough; they’d been gathered in one of the hotel dining rooms for breakfast, all of them around the same table. Tuuri had singlemindedly obliterated half her bowl of oatmeal before asking, “So, how did your parents like Lalli?”

Emil glanced at his boyfriend, only to find no support coming from that direction; Lalli still hadn’t gotten the hang of being awake before noon and was still blinking blearily at his tea. Wincing, he took a deep breath and told them.

The table erupted before he managed to finish talking.

“They said _what?!_ ”

He cringed at the memory. “…Yeah.”

“That’s horrible! I—I will curse them so _all their hair falls out!_ ”

“…Can your kind of mage even do that, Reynir?”

“I can _try_.”

“Hrmph. _I_ think they might benefit from a visit from…an esteemed medic. How easily frightened did you say they were, Emil?”

“Um. Very. But really, I wouldn’t do that if I were you…”

“He won’t have to.” Tuuri’s eyes were chips of ice, and she held her spoon like a weapon. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Tuuri!”

“Alright, fine, I won’t kill them.” Her fist clenched. “I’ll tell Onni about it, and _he’ll_ do it. It might not even be that messy, with magic.”

Reynir flushed slightly pink. “Ah. I…don’t think he’d need magic if he was that angry. He’s…pretty strong.”

Lalli shook his head firmly. “Don’t do it.”

Tuuri huffed, “It would make me _feel better_.”

Only Sigrun was quiet—an unusual occurrence for her. When she spoke, she sounded almost casual, if Emil didn’t know to listen for the thread of anger running through her tone. “Your parents are assholes. Say, I’m heading back to Dalsnes next week; do any of you guys wanna come with me? My folks’ll be thrilled to see you again.”

Reynir winced. “I…can’t. They’re expecting me at the Academy. But I’ll see when I can get away? I’d love to see Norway!”

Tuuri screwed up her face in thought. “…I shouldn’t leave yet. I’ve still got a few papers to present. And…uh. Finish writing. But! When I’m done, I’ll be on the next train over, I promise.”

“…Mikkel?”

But Mikkel was already shaking his head. “My sister will kill me if I leave the farm so understaffed in spring, sorry.”

Lalli’s hand came to rest lightly on Emil’s thigh. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

The contact made him flush a little, and he covered Lalli’s hand with his own. _Dalsnes_. Sigrun had told them all stories, but he’d never been able to really picture the place in his head, and he’d _never_ thought he’d actually be invited to visit. “I’d…like to visit, yeah.”

The hand Sigrun clapped to his shoulder made him stagger in his seat. “Great! Okay, I’ll take care of the train tickets. You guys just have to handle the packing.” Her sudden, mischievous grin lit up her face. “It’s a long trip. You think you two lovebirds can keep your hands to yourselves?”

Emil knew he had to be bright red. “I—Sigrun!”

Lalli huffed grumpily, sinking down into his seat. “We’ll be _fine_.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember all the times you two snuck off together when you thought nobody was looking, and you’ve barely left your room these last two weeks—”

Lalli hissed at her.

\--

They weren’t even halfway to Dalsnes yet, and the Dalahästen was torture. Lalli was twitching with it, fighting the urge to hiss and snap at everyone that bumped into him. There were so many _people_ , and even though he’d spent enough time with the team to almost be able to understand the various Nordic languages if he tried, most of the conversations around him passed in a wave of undistinguished sound. It was worse when they addressed him, or when they actually wanted anything; the first girl to shove a pen and paper at him and ask for his autograph had taken him so completely by surprise that he’d only stared at her until she’d slunk away, babbling an apology.

Worse, the train was cramped. There was just enough room on the bunks to sleep, and the admittedly efficient use of space also meant that there wasn’t anything resembling real privacy. It hadn’t been a problem the first time, even with the giant attack; now that he’d discovered all the really fun things he and Emil could get up to if they had the chance, not even being able to hold hands without everyone looking drove him crazy. Being famous _sucked_. He’d slept badly, and Sigrun’s grin when she asked how they were “holding up under the strain” the next morning did not help.

Emil clearly felt the same way; by the time they pulled into Öresund, he’d started to get cranky. Sigrun had caught them in a ferocious kiss and threatened to dump water over their heads like a pair of cats, and so he was grumpily ignoring her. The fingers caressing Lalli’s hair were gentle anyway.

The train ground to a halt, and Sigrun glanced at the timetable. “Great, we’re just in time; the boat leaves in an hour. Grab your things.”

Lalli couldn’t help but groan, letting his head fall to the pillow. _Boats are evil._

Emil slid off his bunk and bent down to grab his and Lalli’s bags—a movement Lalli watched with interest. “…I need to…go stretch my legs. Lalli?”

He took a breath. They could find some privacy now, something to take the edge off before their miserable sea voyage. He certainly wasn’t going to have the opportunity—or inclination—on the ship. Without hesitation, he climbed out of his bunk and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand.

The bathroom they found was unheated, with cracked tile and a worrying stain in one corner of the ceiling, but Lalli couldn’t bring himself to care. Their bags hit the floor with a crash, and Emil was pinning him up against the wall and kissing him like he was starved for it. When he pulled away for air, his voice came out in a breathy murmur. “Don’t have much time…”

One thing hadn’t changed since their expedition: Emil’s ability to somehow find things to say no matter how much time they didn’t have. Lalli huffed, pressing a knee between his legs, and growled, “Then hurry up.”

They were nose-to-nose; Emil’s eyes gleamed as he slid his hands over Lalli’s stomach, untucking his shirt and running his fingers lightly over his skin. “God, you feel—”

Lalli grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard, nipping his lower lip and getting a sharply indrawn breath for his trouble. _You talk too much._ “Shhh.”

Emil didn’t have to be told twice. His hands found Lalli’s cock and stroked him to full hardness, even as he tilted his head to nibble along the edge of his ear. His breath came in quiet gasps; as he shifted, grinding against his thigh, Lalli knew he wasn’t the only one getting desperately aroused.

When he squeezed, Lalli had to swallow the urge to moan. _Gods, Emil makes it so fucking hard to be quiet…_ It was only his training that saved him as he thrusted into Emil’s hand, breathing roughly, and he had to brace himself with an elbow on the sink as he undid his boyfriend’s pants.

Emil gasped as Lalli’s hand closed around him, rolling his hips into his steady strokes. He was still nearly silent, but the nibbles trailing down to the base of his ear turned into hard, sucking kisses over his throat. He was probably leaving marks, but Lalli couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when Emil was hot and heavy in his grip.

Lalli’s ears strained to hear the slightest hint of anyone approaching, but all that met his ears was Emil’s indistinct little noises of pleasure. He sped up his pace, biting back the sounds that wanted to escape when Emil did the same. They didn’t have much time, they had to be _fast_. When Emil yanked his collar aside and bit his collarbone, he came hard, almost slackening his grip on Emil’s cock before he collected himself and redoubled his efforts.

It didn’t take long. A sharp buck of his hips, and Emil spilled himself over Lalli’s hand. “Nnh!” It sounded too loud in the tiled room; at Lalli’s frown, he grinned. “Your fault.”

“Mrrh!” Huffing, he turned away to clean himself off—a task which was decidedly more convenient than their escapades during the expedition. There was running water, for one thing. And soap, even if it was the pink stuff that he hated the smell of.

Emil joined him at the next sink, bumping his hip affectionately in passing. They cleaned up and rearranged their clothes in easy silence; Emil was gently tweaking Lalli’s collar to cover fresh hickies when he looked up at the clock and swore, grabbing his hand. “We’re going to be late!”

 _Shit!_ He dove for their luggage and broke into a flat run, rocketing out of the bathroom ahead of his lover; he wasn’t exactly that strong, but he could build up enough momentum to drag Emil in his wake anyway. Hand in hand, they sprinted through alleys, scrambled over shipping crates, dove under support beams. _We’re not going to make it._ Briefly, he risked squeezing his eyes shut; when they snapped open, everything came into sharp relief, and he instinctively veered left.

When Emil crashed into a man carrying an armload of boxes, the impact almost knocked Lalli off his feet as well. The man’s yell of “Hey, watch where you’re going!” followed them.

Emil turned his head to call back, “Sorry!”

Lalli didn’t bother apologizing. Speed was more important. Ahead of them, the docks loomed; the boat to Dalsnes was a battered cruise ship onto which someone had bolted a steel dragon prow, and Sigrun’s red hair gleamed in the sun as she waved to them. _Almost there!_

Her voice carried across the docks. “Come on!”

Emil’s legs buckled just as they reached her, and he dropped Lalli’s hand as he leaned against a crate for support. “…Sorry…we’re late…”

She grinned at them. “I was wondering where you got off to. Having _fun_?”

He raised his head and glared at her. “…Shut up.”

“So that’s a yes! C’mon, we have a ship to catch.”

Lalli wondered if it was too late to change his mind.

\--

Emil woke on his first full day in Dalsnes with the worst hangover of his life. He thanked every god he could name that the window of their little bedroom—more like a cell than a room, really—was firmly shuttered. At this point, sunlight might actually kill him. On the floor beside their box-shaped bed, Lalli groaned weakly and shifted, hiding his face in his elbow. Emil leaned down and patted his shoulder gently. _No wonder he’s feeling like shit, I think he drank more than me…_

Dalsnes was…well. It was _something_ , alright. Smaller than Mora, but then most places were smaller than Mora—and it felt as though it contained at least twice the amount of people. Somehow, half of them seemed to find space to live in the Eide longhouse, and they had been surrounded as soon as they arrived. Sigrun’s parents had hugged her, clapped him on the shoulder, and nearly done the same to Lalli until she’d warned them that he did not take boats well. (He really didn’t. Emil had been alternately rubbing his back, trying to get him to at least keep down some water and dry toast, and listening to him complain (in both Finnish and wordless snarling) for the entire trip. At least he’d stopped throwing up that morning.) They’d been shown to their rooms, where they’d had a few precious hours to unpack and rest before Sigrun had come knocking on their door to drag them to what she’d called “a _real_ party.”

At the time, Emil had dismissed the stirring of dread he’d felt. Now he wished he hadn’t. Sure, it had been entertaining, if loud enough that Lalli had spent significant portions of the evening huddled against his arm; there had been entire roast pigs, and venison cooked more ways than he’d ever seen, and it had been a relief to have people cheering and toasting them as fellow troll-hunters and Sigrun’s friends instead of as the legendary Heroes of the Silent World. Unfortunately, they’d done that toasting with truly heroic amounts of alcohol, and it had felt so _natural_ to try to match them drink for drink. Vague memories swam through his hungover mind. There had been filthy songs about cats, he thought, and at least one fight. He was pretty sure that at one point Lalli had been toying with his collar and slurring obscene suggestions in Finnish into his ear. He had no idea how they’d made it back to their room.

Someone knocked on their door. He groaned. “Go ‘way, I’m dead.”

“You can talk, you’re not dead yet! C’mon, you two are gonna miss breakfast.”

 _Ugh. Sigrun._ He groaned again, louder, but began the slow process of heaving himself out of bed. There was little that could stop or distract Sigrun when she wanted you to do something, and it was _probably_ better to hydrate himself, anyway. _Should I wake Lalli…nah. He might bite me._

He did make sure to leave a scribbled note under Lalli’s hand. _Breakfast w/ Sigrun. Love you. ~Emil_

By the time he stumbled into the dining hall, Sigrun was working her way through a massive omelette; when she saw him, she gestured with her fork at an empty seat. “Sit. Eat.”

He sank into the seat with a grunt, only noticing as he did so that she’d already loaded his plate with eggs and leftover meat from the night before. “Ngk.” He cleared his throat and reached for his water. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her grin, in his opinion, was disgustingly cheerful. “Lalli’s still sleeping it off, huh? Can’t blame him. You know, he drank Fatima under the table?”

“Mrrgrph.” Food. Food was important. As he ate, his headache started to ebb, and he no longer felt like his mouth was stuffed full of paper. He started to feel like maybe he was going to survive.

Sigrun’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “Hey, so, before I forget…I got a question for you. Well, you and Lalli, but I’ll ask him when he’s awake.”

He blinked at her, still chewing his bacon. “Mrr?”

She leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. He recognized the impending signs of what she called a “Most Best Plan” and what Mikkel had always called “Norwegian-brand craziness,” and winced. The last one had given them all scars. “My parents love you, and they’re really impressed by what you’ve done. You guys wanna come work for us?”

He choked. When he could breathe again, he wheezed, “ _What?_ ”

“Yeah! We could use you guys this summer.” She gestured around the dining hall, motioning with her fork at the view outside the windows. “And maybe in the fall, we could get the team together for another expedition, what do you think?”

“Um.” He took a breath. “I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

She grinned easily at him. “Hey, no rush! Offer’s still on the table, no matter how long you take to decide.”

\--

Dalsnes had more trees than Mora. For that alone, Lalli liked it. When the packs of troll hunters weren’t roaming around, it was quieter too. His hangover was a rapidly fading twinge in his skull; as it cleared, he stared up at the sky and thought. He’d slept most of the day and woken up aching and alone, but his anger had faded when he’d found the note Emil had left. It was hard to really be upset when he probably had the sweetest boyfriend in the world. (And he loved him. He _loved him_. Seeing it in writing would have made him need to sit down even if he hadn’t had a splitting headache.) Going in search of his boyfriend had led him to Sigrun instead, and he still wasn’t sure what to do about the offer she’d made him.

_“Scout for us. Do your mage stuff for us. We’d love to have you—both of you. You’re practically family as far as I’m concerned, anyway.”_

He had to tell Emil. Before making a decision, he had to tell his boyfriend. _Not without you. No matter how much I might want to do it…I don’t want to work without you, even if our schedules won’t always match up. We’re a team._

Hrm. Where _was_ Emil, anyway? He hadn’t seen him yet. If he’d gone for a walk, the little stand of trees by the Eide longhouse was a nice place for it.

Oh. There he was, sitting on a stump and talking to…some guy. Some tall, _handsome_ guy, all white-blond hair and green eyes and muscles, standing entirely too close to him. As he watched, the man rested a casual elbow on Emil’s shoulder and leaned in, gesturing with his other hand as he talked. The grin on his face radiated cheerful good humor, but his eyes roamed over Emil’s form with clear interest. Emil’s body language suggested he hadn’t noticed. Yet.

Lalli hissed and moved closer, winding his way silently through the trees.

\--

Torvald, Emil decided, was pretty cool. The man was only a few months older than him, but he’d been a troll hunter since he was fourteen, and had loads of stories to tell. He’d intended to only take a short walk to shake off the last of his hangover, but surely a few more minutes outside wouldn’t hurt. Lalli was probably still sleeping; the sun wasn’t quite down yet. _At least, I hope he is. I hope he didn’t wake up alone._

The big Norwegian rested an elbow on his shoulder, grinning as he finished up the retelling of his first troll hunt. “So _then_ I punched it in the face!”

He couldn’t help but smile in return. Torvald’s cheerfulness was infectious, even if his lack of personal space was…regrettable. “I did that once. A giant attacked the Dalahästen—”

Torvald leaned in, eyes wide. “I heard about that! You killed it, right?”

“Um.” He coughed, shifting in his seat as he remembered the stench of the giant right in front of his face, how he and Lalli had clung helplessly to each other, how their frantically hammering hearts had almost drowned out the gunfire. “…I kind of…not…really? But I punched it in one of its heads!”

Torvald gave his shoulder a squeeze. “That totally counts!”

He felt his face heat up. “It was already dead. Mostly.”

“Still. You’ve only been in the military for, what—two years? That’s pretty impressive!”

It sounded like a genuine enough compliment. He relaxed a little. “Thanks.”

Torvald grinned. “Hey, how long are you gonna be in Dalsnes?”

“Um.” He shrugged. “As long as the Eides want to host me?”

“Great!” Torvald looked oddly hopeful. “Because…I was thinking, maybe me and you could head out, find some troll nests…”

He blinked. “…Uh. I don’t think—”

He hadn’t even noticed Lalli approaching, but very suddenly he found himself with a lapful of mage. Lalli perched himself neatly and silently on his thigh, back ramrod-straight, and met Torvald’s gaze with a glare so cold that Emil half expected him to puff himself up and start hissing.

Torvald just looked confused. “Uh. Who…?”

“Oh, this is my boyfriend Lalli. Lalli, Torvald.” He petted Lalli’s back with his knuckles, trying to get him to relax. “How’re you feeling? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Mm.” A little huffily, Lalli leaned into his touch. “I missed you.”

Torvald blushed clear to the tips of his ears. “Oh. Yeah. Um. It was nice meetin’ you, but I…have a thing…to go to…”

“Um. Bye?” Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Lalli’s waist. “…I missed you too.” Leaning up so Torvald couldn’t overhear them, he asked, “What was _that_ about?”

Lalli huffed, eyes narrowing at Torvald’s retreating back. “He was rude.”

Emil blinked. _Rude? I thought he was being…friendly…oh._ Oh. _I guess…yeah, that was kind of flirting. Awkward._ Though he hated it, part of him—a small part—was surprised at Lalli for picking up on it, but it was the merest twinge in comparison to his annoyance that Torvald had even tried. “Hrmph. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that anymore.” He gave Lalli’s hip a squeeze. “I think you scared him.”

“Good.” Lalli leaned back against him, slowly and deliberately shifting in his lap in a way that made him swallow hard. “You’re _mine_.”

He squirmed at the hot little shiver that ran through him at those words. “…You know. It’s been…a while since we had some time to ourselves. The bed they gave us is pretty comfortable.” He took a breath, felt his heart twist in something like a backflip; doing it was easy, but suggesting it out loud always made him unaccountably nervous. “And you could make sure everyone _knows_ I’m yours.”

Lalli’s eyes gleamed.

\--

They fell into bed together. As soon as his back hit the sheets, Lalli was on him, nudging his legs open. Emil fumbled at his boyfriend’s pants until Lalli batted his hands away, yanking his shirt the rest of the way off and undoing his fly before tearing at Emil’s clothes with focused intensity. Even when he’d been covered in troll blood, Emil had never been stripped so quickly. He knew Lalli was leaving faint scratches on his thighs and at least one shirt button was probably a lost cause, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was something incredibly arousing about being mostly naked while Lalli was almost entirely dressed, and he was achingly hard in record time. “Lalli—”

Lalli ground against his cock, leaning down to kiss him hard. It was almost too forceful—there were definitely teeth—but Emil _liked_ that. Especially when it was followed by him growling something in Finnish that he was entirely too horny to even attempt to decipher, followed by a rough Swedish murmur of “Mine.”

Oh, this was going to be _amazing_. “Ah, yes, yours—” He sucked in a breath, wriggling at the feeling of the slightly rough fabric of Lalli’s pants against his bare skin. It sent sparks through him, but he had to focus. “Lube. Bottom drawer.”

Lalli lunged for it. He almost fell off the bed in his haste; Emil sat up quickly to brace him with a hand on his back. “Careful!” He got an imperious frown for his trouble, but couldn’t resist petting his spine. _I wonder if he knows he purrs…_

Indeed, he was rumbling quietly at the contact—a sound which would have normally been merely cute, but managed to become a massive turn-on when he was half-naked and staring intently at him. It might have been a trick of the dim light, but Emil swore his eyes shone faintly, like a cat’s. His voice was much less of a purr, more of a predatory growl. “Gods, I want you.”

He couldn’t help but grin, settling back against the blankets and bending one leg for better access. “Then take me; I’m yours.”

“That is a _horrible_ line.” But his sharp teeth were bared in an answering smirk as he popped open the bottle of lube and spread it over his fingers. “Maybe I should make you wait.”

He growled, “Don’t you dare—” One slick finger slid in, and he broke off with a shaky moan. Lalli was _fantastically_ good at taking him apart, wringing him out until he could barely walk, and he raked his nails hard down Lalli’s spine in answer.

Lalli gasped—music to his ears—but then he was leaning over him, bracing himself on the bed so another finger (two? He thought it might be two, Lalli had such thin fingers) could more easily join the first, driving deep and curling in exactly the right way to send waves of arousal through him. In between sharp little bites to his collarbones, he breathed, “Changed my mind. Want to fuck you _now_.”

Emil threw his head back and groaned. The steady press of Lalli’s fingers, the sweet sting of his teeth on his skin, it all would have been hot enough without his words. With them, he thought he might just die if Lalli didn’t make good on his promise. “Fucking—please, oh you feel so _good_ …”

He nuzzled at his earlobe lightly. “More?”

“ _Yes_.”

And then Lalli was removing his fingers and splitting him open with his cock, and all he could do was shudder and take it, wrapping his legs tightly around Lalli’s waist. Despite his words, it turned out that Lalli had no intention of making him wait at all; after a moment’s pause for them both to adjust, he set a rough, ferocious pace, making Emil moan as he tugged his hair back and mouthed along the side of his neck. In between kisses that were nearly bites, Emil caught snatches of Finnish; he didn’t understand it, but he didn’t need to, not when Lalli was fucking him like a wild thing.

He sucked in a breath, digging his nails into Lalli’s shoulderblades when a particularly hard thrust sent a shock of pleasure through him. “Nngh, Lalli—“ Another roll of his hips, and he cried out even as he knew Lalli would have marks from his nails later, from the way he couldn’t stop himself from scratching across the back of his neck.

Lalli actually snarled at the sensation, shifting his weight for a better angle, and Emil groaned; like this, he was at Lalli’s mercy, and Lalli was clearly not inclined to be particularly merciful. He braced himself with his knees, tangled his fingers in his hair, and kissed him brief and hard before dropping his head to the base of his throat and sinking his teeth in.

Emil nearly screamed, back arching. It was good, it was _great_ , but it wasn’t enough. “More, more, fuck—” A hand wrapped around his cock, _squeezed_ , and he came with a howl.

A few more hard thrusts and Lalli followed him over the edge, trembling all over before slowly, slowly relaxing and sinking down on top of him, head tucked under Emil’s chin.

For a long while they just lay together, breathing. Emil smoothed a palm over Lalli’s shoulders; already, the scratch marks were a vivid red against his pale skin. “…Sorry.”

“Mrr?” He shifted, pulling out with a careful hitch of his hips. “It’s alright. _You’re_ alright?”

He smiled, petting the ends of Lalli’s hair. He was honestly a little sore—he knew he’d be feeling it the next day, and maybe the day after that—but his heart felt like it was floating. “Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders, feeling the delicious sting of his new teeth marks. “…Lalli?”

He wedged open one eye. “Mrr?”

“Earlier today, Sigrun asked me if I wanted to work for her unit as a Cleanser.”

Lalli rested his chin on Emil’s chest and gazed at him, unblinking. “…And?”

“…I said I’d think about it.” He knew he had to be blushing. _Maybe this is stupid. We’ve never exactly talked about the future; he might even want to go back to Keuruu._ “I…I want to work with you, no matter what.”

“Mmm. That’s what I said when Sigrun asked me if I wanted to be a night scout for her…” Lalli yawned hugely, rolling off of him to nestle against his side. “Don’t want to be separated from you…”

 _Oh. My god._ Emil took a slow breath, wincing a little as he groped for a spare rag or _something_ to clean up with. “…Good. So…we’ll tell her later?”

“Yeah.”

He was going to work with Lalli and Sigrun. It was going to happen. Emil knew there was no chance he’d wind up napping before dinner. “Later, then. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

Lalli was already asleep.


	4. In The Woods Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4: Norway is somewhat more dangerous than Emil was expecting. Lalli saves the day.

Lalli got back just as the sun was rising. The night had been long and cold; as tired as he was, only the thought of his bed kept him moving forward. After all, there would be Emil in it. Emil was worth fighting off the urge to simply lay down and sleep on the nearest log. Emil was even worth living in Norway.

He thought he was probably being unfair. Norway wasn’t _that_ bad. Drier and rockier than Keuruu, for one thing; it was nice to not have to wage a constant battle against mildew sprouting on everything. The beds in the longhouses were weird, though—boxes with mattresses and shelves below, instead of sensible bunks. At least they were warmer, even if he couldn’t wedge himself under them when he felt like it. And the people were…well, alright. Working with Sigrun wasn’t bad, and the other night scouts he’d met so far were competent enough, though they didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to be as friendly as she was. He was pretty sure Fatima still held a grudge against him for what happened at Sigrun’s welcome-back party. _I don’t know why. Did she think we don’t have alcohol in Finland too? It’s usually better than the water._

He was halfway home before he stopped and groaned. _Scout report. Nothing changed since last night; can I get away with writing ‘no change?’_ He thought about that for a moment. _It’s Sigrun. Probably not._ “Ugh.” At least the office was on the way.

Unfortunately, the officer on duty seemed to be in a chatty mood. “Morning, Hotakai…nen.” Whatever he saw in Lalli’s face scared him. Good.

Wordlessly, he shoved his hastily-filled-out report across the desk and left. He knew he wouldn’t have much time; Emil was on duty today.

By the time he reached the Eide longhouse, a few lights were shining from the windows. After having slept there for the past month and a half, Lalli almost thought of it as home. (They should have been in the barracks, he knew, but Sigrun had made a grinning comment about “not wanting to split up the newlyweds” and so they still hadn’t moved out. Emil had told him he suspected she really just wanted her friends near her.) The hallways were nearly as familiar to him as the woods were, and he moved through them silently. Nobody spoke to him.

The bedroom door was unlocked; Emil was probably awake. Lalli rolled his eyes fondly and slid into the room as quietly as possible anyway.

“Mmh. Good morning, Lalli…”

Well, _that_ was a nice sight to come home to. Emil was sprawled naked and lazy in the bed, one foot dangling casually off the edge and his hair spilling nearly to his shoulders. (He’d been lazy about trimming it. Lalli had privately vowed to flay the first person who ordered him to.) He looked tired—as well he should, it was horribly early for him—but his eyes shone as he looked Lalli over. The dim morning light caught the edges of his scars as well as his soft smile.

Lalli shook his head as he set his rifle in its case by the door and started shucking his uniform. He kept his voice low; the walls weren’t as thick as he would have liked. “You’re ridiculous. What are you doing up this early?”

He could feel Emil’s eyes follow the motions of his hands, roam over bared skin. “Waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Though it made him sigh (really, Emil was absolutely _ruining_ his sleep schedule, sleep was _important)_ , some part of him always melted every time his boyfriend said that. “You work today. You should go back to sleep.”

Emil huffed quietly, already shifting over so Lalli could slip into bed beside him. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

He took a breath as those words hit, dropping his pants to the floor. “…Oh.” Luckily, he’d never needed words to express his feelings. They helped, of course, but when he was overcome with tenderness for his silly, handsome boyfriend, actions were much more effective. Naked, he padded over to the bed and sank onto it.

Emil pulled him close immediately, stroking his hair back from his face. Against his cold skin, Emil’s fingers burned like a brand. “How was your night? Boldly defending Dalsnes from the trolls?”

His voice was quietly affectionate, and Lalli couldn’t help but smile as he nestled into his hold. “Trolls never come this close to Dalsnes. You know that.” Emil’s heartbeat thumped steadily in his ear, and it made something in him go soft.

“But if they _did_ , you’d stab them.” Emil’s hair tickled his neck as he shifted, pressing a kiss to Lalli’s temple and smoothing a hand gently over his chest. “Someone’s gotta protect me while I get my beauty sleep.”

The touch made him shiver, and he wriggled a bit to press against him. “Keep touching me, and you’ll ruin _my_ beauty sleep.”

Emil’s eyes gleamed as his hand continued its slow journey down his torso. “Can I?”

He sighed, quietly, and arched into it; as tired as he was, the idea was still tempting. _Very_ tempting. It would be easy to melt into him, let Emil lavish attention on him until he trembled and came. They’d done it before. But if he did that, he certainly wouldn’t be able to stay awake a moment afterward, and he’d missed Emil’s company. Silently, he shook his head.

“Mm. Okay.” He withdrew his hand, but since he then started petting Lalli’s back, that was more than alright. “But you did have a good night?”

“…Yeah.” He let his eyes close, wriggling up a little to steal a kiss. Morning breath was worth it. “…I missed you. You know.”

He could feel Emil’s smile against his skin as he tangled their legs together, one hand sliding up to rub soothing little circles on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

Oh, that was nice. He felt some of the warmth return to his skin as he sank back down to nuzzle at Emil’s neck, relishing the shiver that brought him. “It’s dark out there. And cold. Fire would have been nice. I wish you could work with me…”

“Hah!” Emil’s soft, laughing breath was music to his ears. “Your Kuutar is drawing little hearts around your name in her notebook, you don’t need me out there.”

He couldn’t stop the grin. “Blasphemy. The gods don’t have notebooks.”

“They could!”

Sighing, he reached up to tweak the ends of Emil’s hair. “Ridiculous.”

Emil chuckled, tilting his head into his hand. “You like me anyway.”

“Mmm, yeah.” There was no use denying it, even teasingly; at moments like this, with Emil’s arms warm around him, he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he adored him. _I never want to move from this spot. Gods, can I just stay here forever?_

He was almost asleep when someone knocked. Loudly. _Okay. Murder. Murder whoever that is just as soon as I find my limbs._

“Hey, right-hand warrior! Move your ass if you want breakfast before we leave!”

Emil groaned. “Has anyone ever told you you’re evil?” Lalli thought he caught a mutter of “…could be living the high life in Mora, but _no_ , I had to go make _friends_.”

“Yep! Now move!”

 _Ugh. Sigrun. Can’t murder Sigrun._ Grumbling, he curled himself into a ball as Emil pulled away and tried to scramble over him without kicking him in the shins. When he did anyway, Lalli hissed.

Emil paused to pet his hair in a quick apology. “Sorry. You want to grab breakfast with me?”

He growled.

“Okay.” Emil’s kiss to his forehead made him almost smile. “You’re off tonight, right? I’ll see you at dinner.”

There was a thud and a soft yelp as Emil nearly knocked over his rifle; as he set it back upright and gently slid the door shut behind him, Lalli sighed and rolled over. Eating with Emil was a good thing—he didn’t think it was bad that there were only a few things Lalli enjoyed, and he was always willing to eat everything he didn’t—but right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. It proved more elusive than he liked; though every one of his muscles seemed to have been filled with lead, his mind refused to shut down. _Wouldn’t it be nice if I really could work with Emil? Every day? But that would mean…_

It would mean going out as a day scout, flipping his routine upside-down. He hadn’t been a fan of that during the expedition, either. _That was a special thing. They didn’t have the money then to hire another scout to split the workload._ _If I went on days now, it would be easier. And we could stop doing this, stop snatching time together where we can. This is way worse than being awake before noon._

His last thought before he drifted off into his haven was that he had to remember to tell Emil that. Later.

\--

The first thing Emil was aware of was a finger gently tracing the edge of his ear. “Mrr.” It always took a second for his mouth to work in the mornings. “Lalli, what’re you doing?” _Should get up, get ready for work…_

Lalli’s voice was a very nearly smug purr. “You don’t remember? You have the day off today.”

He was definitely more awake now. “Well.” He sucked in a breath as nails scratched lightly over the side of his neck; there was something about Lalli and sharp edges that always got him going. “Carry on, then.”

Lalli hummed quietly, nails continuing their slow drag over Emil’s neck and down over his shoulderblades. “Mm. You feel good…” Lazily, he pressed against him, grinding their hips together; he was already half-hard, and it made Emil squirm.

When his nails dug deeper, just to the point of stinging, Emil shuddered under it. “Ngh, Lalli…” It was enough to get him hard even without more contact; wanting to reciprocate, he slid a hand between them to stroke Lalli’s cock.

Lalli arched; Emil didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Lalli’s had just taken on that hot, hazy look he always got at times like this. “Oh, _gods_ …” His voice was rough; as Emil moved—slowly, teasingly—he rolled his hips into it.

Emil couldn’t help but grin. “Mm. You like that?” Last night had been heated, desperate; it had been a while since he’d had the chance to do what he liked best and take his time pleasing his boyfriend. He was in no hurry now, and set a steady pace as he savored the feel of Lalli’s cock in his hand.

Lalli’s soft whine as he stroked him was answer enough. “Nnh.” And then he propped himself up on one elbow; it took a moment for Emil to realize what he meant to do, but then he pulled away and shifted so Lalli could roll them both over and straddle Emil’s thighs, pressing him flat on his back. For a moment, Lalli simply sat there, trembling—but then he lowered himself to steal a hungry kiss, and the steady purr in his chest rumbled through them both.

Emil sighed in pleasure, carding the fingers of his free hand through Lalli’s hair as the other slid down to resume what he’d been doing. Lalli got there first; when he aligned their cocks and wrapped his hand tightly around both, Emil groaned and laced their fingers together. Lalli set a slightly faster pace, always, but Emil _liked_ that. When he squeezed on an upward stroke, Emil gasped and bucked into it. “Oh, that feels good…”

Lalli growled, writhing against him. “So do you.” Emil rolled his hips; Lalli braced himself with his elbow on the bed, moving into his strokes with a faster, rougher rhythm occasionally punctuated by kisses along his neck.

When the kisses turned to sharp little nibbles along his collarbone, Emil’s breath caught in his throat. “Ah, don’t stop, please…” Lalli’s hand, his cock, his mouth—it was all almost overwhelming, and he was achingly close.

“Mmm.” A low growl, a twist of his wrist, and Emil shuddered and jolted.

“Fuck, _please_ —“

A voice outside their door, loud and cheerful. “Hey, are you guys still sleeping? C’mon, up and at ‘em!”

Lalli’s hand stilled; Emil bit back a sob of frustration as he pulled away. _Right. No screaming at your CO. Even if she is evil incarnate._ He was secretly proud that his own voice was so even. “…Sigrun. It is our _day off_.”

She sounded unfazed. “Yeah, which is what makes it a great day for a team building exercise! Nature hike, how about it?”

He took a few slow breaths to calm himself, squeezing his eyes shut. _I really, really am starting to hate that woman._ “Agggghhhh.”

“…It won’t take all day! We’ll be back in time for lunch.”

Lalli was already rolling off him, mouth set in a frown. “Mrrr.”

For a moment, Emil laid still and watched him dress. And then, groaning, he followed _. Stupid nature hike. Stupid Dalsnes. Why did I even come here?_

\--

The worst part, he decided later, was that Lalli didn’t even seem especially bothered by their interruption once they set out. Indeed, after a few hours’ silent, grumpy walk he was trotting casually in front of the group while Sigrun tried to teach him the Norwegian names of the trees and glared daggers at anyone who looked like they might be thinking about making fun of his accent. He looked like he was actually having _fun_ , the traitor.

Emil had kept pace with him at first, but as the morning wore on he drifted quietly towards the rearmost spot. It was easier that way. Sure, the rest of Sigrun’s unit were nice enough—much nicer than the Cleansers back in Mora, honestly—but he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Or trees. Or the outdoors in general. _I want to be back in bed. Or anywhere, really, just as long as Lalli’s with me. I can’t believe Sigrun dragged us out on the first day off we’ve had together all month…_

It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, if their schedules matched up better. But the lives of a Cleanser and a night scout just weren’t the same. They grabbed time where they could, meals together and time in bed before one or the other had to rush off, but Emil _missed_ him when he was out in the field. It wasn’t as fun to relate hilarious mishaps when Lalli hadn’t been there to see them begin. His gaze fell on Lalli’s back; the sunlight caught his hair, made it gleam silver. He sighed wistfully. _He’s so far away from me._

As they stepped over an ancient stone bridge, a sound floated through the trees, and he stopped in his tracks. Someone was singing, low and sweet; though he couldn’t make out the words, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

He needed to hear more. Without missing a beat, he turned and walked through the woods, following the sluggish, reed-choked river. The damp ground squelched under his boots; several times he almost tripped over the twisting tree roots and tangled grasses. He shook it off, shivering. The music drew him onwards, winding around his heart. Had he ever heard anything like it before? He didn’t think so—and yet, it was somehow familiar. It made him think of cool, damp stones and still water, of fish flicking their tails lazily at the bottoms of lakes.

There was a dense stand of young saplings up ahead. He pushed past them roughly, stepped out into the small clearing beyond, and stopped.

A man lay in the water, elbows lazily propped up on the shore. It was impossible to tell his age; his face was unlined, cheekbones sharp, but that didn’t mean much. Long black hair streamed down over his white, naked chest and shoulders, and his eyes were the same clear green as the river. When he smiled, his teeth were very bright and even. “Ah, what a pretty young man, all alone in the world. Have you come to hear me sing, pretty one?”

His speaking voice was just as beautiful as his singing voice. Emil took a step forward.

\--

Lalli would have definitely preferred to spend the day alone with his boyfriend, but a nature walk wasn’t such a bad way to spend a morning. Unfortunate that it was with other people, but Sigrun at least was good company if she remembered to keep her hand gestures within her own space. The others were…tolerable. Quiet. At least Fatima and Boris looked as tired as he felt.

A chattering sound from above drew his attention, and he glanced up. _Squirrel, normal. Cute. Emil likes cute._ Lalli had never really understood that; sure, squirrels weren’t ugly, but they were for dinner, not for gushing over and making stupid noises at. Still, Emil would probably enjoy seeing it. “Hey, Emil…”

Silence. He turned, took a quick head count, and felt fear grip his heart. “Where’s Emil?”

As the rest of the unit mumbled variations on “haven’t seen him, don’t know,” Sigrun’s eyebrows knit together. “Hrm.”

Boris edged forward, wringing his hands. “Um. He was right behind me five minutes ago…”

Lalli wanted to claw his face off. His hand shot out to grab his collar, yanking him down to his level. “Did you see where he went?”

“Ngk.” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “N-no?”

Sigrun reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, easy, kid. We’ll find him; he can’t have gotten far.”

But Lalli was already letting go of Boris and retracing their steps. The wet ground held footprints well, but with the amount of people that had just traversed it, it was impossible to tell exactly when Emil had split off; the grass didn’t help, as it resettled in ways that hid their passage. _He wouldn’t have snuck off without saying anything. He never has. And he wouldn’t leave me alone willingly. Something must have happened to him. I can’t have missed a troll, I can’t—gods, please let him be safe!_

There. There, by the river, there was something _wrong_ , something that set every magical sense he had clanging like bells. _Mielikki, guide me._ He set off at a dead run along the riverbank, ignoring the startled shouts of his unit behind him. Tree roots didn’t trip him; grass pulled away from his boots. He couldn’t hear the water trickling through the reeds over the sound of his own pulse. His own footsteps barely made a sound.

And then the voice reached him, and he slowed to a walk midstride. The sudden change in gait almost overbalanced him, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Nothing human had that voice—it was too smooth, too polished—and yet it didn’t sound like any troll he’d ever fought, either. They were never so coherent.

“Look at _you_. Aren’t you a lovely young thing, strong and shining and golden? You should be a great prince, covered in gold as bright as your hair. And yet here you are, dressed in plain cloth and all alone…”

Very carefully, Lalli stepped out from behind the trees. The sight before him made his stomach drop.

A lean, unnaturally beautiful man in the water with a predatory smile on his face, wet black hair plastered to skin even paler than his own. Emil, dead-eyed and blank, stumbling towards him.

The man kept up a steady stream of words, voice taking on a cajoling tone. “You should never be alone, you know. Your lover, that pretty little foreign mage I’ve been smelling in my water—has he cruelly abandoned you after taking his pleasure? That would be just like him; he’s a heartless one, surely. You’ll find us locals _much_ more welcoming. Come to me, my sweetling, and we will never be apart.”

Something was definitely very bad here. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again.

There was the grass. There were the trees. There was Emil, walking towards the water. And there was the thing in the water _(back home they would call it a näkki, he thought)_ stretching out a bony, long-clawed hand, which no longer resembled a human except in general shape. Its hair was black, but the black of dead and rotting water plants; its skin was the dead white of a fish’s belly. Horribly, the voice was the same.

And it was still talking. “You’d _like_ that, wouldn’t you? To live under the waters with me, and wear crowns of gold? Take my hand, sweetling, just a few more steps…”

 _No_ , he thought. And then quietly, “No.”

The näkki turned to face him, gray lips splitting nearly to its tiny ears to reveal fangs like a pike’s. “Oh?”

He lifted his head, letting his voice ring out across the clearing. “ _No_. I love him, and he is _mine_ , and _you cannot have him_.”

Emil shuddered all over, sinking to his knees. Some of the life sparked back into his eyes. Lalli breathed again.

The näkki smiled. “Then stop me.”

And then it rushed him, and he barely had time to draw his knife. The world passed in flickers. _Claws at my face—move—can’t let it grab me—move—if it bites me—there!_ An opening, and he twisted around its claws and struck, slashing its throat open. Blood sprayed his face; its scream hurt his ears, but he made himself ignore it. He’d dealt with näkki before; they weren’t always dangerous, but this one had tried to kill his Emil and so it deserved to _die_.

He didn’t notice when it stopped screaming. When Sigrun’s voice sounded close behind him, it felt as though it was coming from a very long way off.

“Hey—hey, Lalli? I think it’s…definitely pretty dead now. Really. You can put the knife away. Emil, you okay there?”

 _Emil_. He nearly dropped his knife, tearing his eyes away from the bloody remains of the näkki. Distantly, he noticed that it didn’t have much of a face left.

Emil was getting to his feet shakily, turning to stare at Sigrun. Lalli actually saw the recognition of his surroundings flood into his expression; still, he gaped like a fish for a few moments before finding his voice. “ _What the fuck was that?_ ”

Sigrun shrugged. “We call it a nøkk here, a water spirit. They eat people. They’re really rare, though; I guess you got lucky.”

“…Lucky.” He shuddered, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

She patted his shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you and Lalli head back? I think you two might’ve had enough nature walking for today.”

\--

 _Norway is so fucked up._ After a moment, Emil amended that thought. _Not as fucked up as the Silent World, but still._

They were back in their room now, at least. After a long, hot shower, he’d flopped onto the bed and now felt almost normal again, though his thoughts kept restlessly circling back to the river. _I could have died. I would have died. Lalli told me that there’s not much defense against a näkki you don’t know is there. Next time I’ll be on my guard. If it’s something I can help with, I don’t want Lalli to face it alone._ He shivered at the memory. _Even though he definitely didn’t need the help. All I saw was that thing moving, and then the blood…_

The door slid open and Lalli stepped through, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe several sizes too big for him; Emil suspected it was one of his, but he wasn’t complaining at the sight. “…How are you feeling?”

The sound of his boyfriend’s voice sparked another memory, and he felt his face heat. “Better.”

Lalli sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Mrr. Okay.” When his long, thin fingers started caressing Emil’s hair, he tilted his head into it with a sigh and almost missed his quiet “…I was worried. I’m glad I found you in time.”

Despite himself, he smiled. Lalli’s brand of sweetness wasn’t as saccharine as some regular peoples,’ but it suited him just fine. “Hey, so am I. That thing was gonna eat me, and then you came in like the wrath of the gods. Get down here so I can thank my fearless rescuer properly?”

“Mm.” Emil caught a glimpse of Lalli’s eyes shining with affection before he lowered himself down on his elbow, hovering over him with the edges of his lips quirked up in a tiny smile. This close, his hair tickled Emil’s face; he could count his eyelashes if he wanted.

Emil closed his eyes and leaned up to kiss him, lingering in it; when his boyfriend hummed contentedly and settled down on top of him, he wrapped him up in his arms. _Yup. My day is definitely getting better._ But then Lalli was pulling away and gazing at him with his chin on his shoulder, and a nasty sinking feeling uncoiled itself somewhere in his torso. _I need to know._ He took a breath. “…Lalli?”

“Mm?”

His heart seemed to have kicked itself up into his throat. He knew Lalli could feel it hammering. “Earlier today…I thought you said, um.”

Lalli glanced away, but not before Emil saw the faint flush that bloomed in his face. “Mrr?”

He swallowed hard. “…That you loved me.”

“…I do.”

 _Oh my god._ “…I. Um.” Words weren’t nearly enough. Instead, he tugged Lalli into a ferocious kiss, praying that would suffice. _I love you, I love you, god, what did I do to deserve this?_

Lalli deepened it, made it hungry, and then they were rolling on the bed together, Lalli’s fingers making quick work of the knot holding Emil’s bathrobe closed while his own fell off his shoulders and bared soft skin for Emil to touch. He was thrilled to realize Lalli was actually growling low in his throat; when Emil’s hands slid down to his hips, he broke their kiss to breathe, “And I was thinking of asking to be moved to the day scouts.”

Emil kissed him again, wondering if it was actually possible to die of love. By the time he pulled away, though, a cold little thread of doubt flickered through his heart. “…Are you sure? I mean, I know you love your job—”

Lalli’s fingers tapped lightly against his lips, cutting him off. His eyes were very serious. “I love scouting. And you. And _someone’s_ got to keep you from being eaten by all the weird stuff out here in Norway.”

It was official. Emil had the best boyfriend _ever_.


	5. Arsonist's Lullabye

Two days after Lalli decided to join the day scouts, he and Emil were sent on their first mission.

He wasn’t looking forward to it. Sure, it was only still spring, so it was unlikely to be too grueling—nothing like what Sigrun referred to as “a real workout”—but as he stood in loose formation with the rest of their unit he had to admit that he still wasn’t a fan of seeing dawn from this end of his sleep schedule. There just shouldn’t be anyone awake before nine, it wasn’t _natural_. And the light was too bright. The other members, still unused to him, eyed him warily; he didn’t have the energy to eye them right back, but Emil fearlessly met their gaze with his own glare until they stopped staring.

He managed a tired, grateful smile for his boyfriend. Emil’s presence, at least, made it…well, not _fun_ , but tolerable. (Even if he was part of the reason Lalli was so tired in the first place. He’d been _very_ keen on showing him how happy he was to be working with him.) And he looked good, very good, in full Cleanser kit with his eyes all focused and serious.

“Alright, listen up, you lazy bums!”

Sigrun’s voice rang out over the yard. Lalli was very glad he wasn’t standing in the front as she continued talking; he’d heard her outscream a charging giant, and that hadn’t even been the loudest he’d ever been subjected to. “We’re gonna be checking the southwestern fields today, possibly doing some demolition. I want everyone to be at the top of their game; our night scouts have reported activity around some of the ruins, and we might be seeing some action! _Don’t_ let yourselves get distracted just because it’s a cool day.”

Lalli huffed grumpily. _I would never._

“Everyone ready?”

A ragged chorus went up in the key of Yes Captain Eide.

“Okay! Quick march!”

And then they were moving, and Lalli let himself be swept up into the crowd. He didn’t like it—it was too close, too cramped—but he knew he only had to put up with it for an hour or so, just enough time to exit Dalsnes and get to the fields where he could start working. That, at least, hadn’t changed; though he now actually saw the other scouts in the field occasionally, he still did most of his actual work alone. Part of him still half expected to be woken up and told it was only a dream, that any minute now this position in the middle of a pack of Norwegian heathens would be his working life forever. The mere thought made him wince.

As the unit reached the outskirts of Dalsnes, Emil reappeared at his elbow. “Hey.”

He blinked. “Hey— _oh_. Mmm.”

Emil’s kisses always had a way of gluing his feet to the ground, even if they were brief and chaste. This one could claim the title of “brief,” but the way Emil tugged him close, pressing their bodies together even through his bulky gear, put it far out of the running for any kind of chastity. When he pulled away, he was grinning. “Good luck.”

Lalli looked back at him and let himself smirk. “I do not need luck; you know that. Try not to blow yourself up.”

“Have I ever?” He almost managed to look offended, but he was smiling too warmly for that.

“One time…” He paused. “No, wait, that was the troll nest in Copenhagen. With me in it.”

Emil huffed. “That was _once_.”

“Hey, Västerström! You’re with me!”

Sigrun’s lieutenant, yelling. Emil leaned in, pressing a final peck to Lalli’s cheek. “I love you. See you later.”

Lalli couldn’t hold back a smile, and didn’t try. “I know.”

And then he turned and melted into the woods.

Almost immediately, he felt better. Calmer. The woods were quiet, and here where nobody else spoke he could finally focus properly. He could do his job. As much as he enjoyed Emil’s company, here in the unsecured woods his boyfriend would only be a distraction, and distraction could be lethal.

Sigrun had made all of them read the night scout reports. Norwegian spelling made his head hurt, and Emil had had to find him a dictionary, but he _thought_ he remembered a tumble of rocks to the east, a shattered cliff overlooking the ruins of an old stone building. Either would be a great place for trolls to hide out. _The cliff first; higher ground will be an advantage._ Without hesitation, he set off for it.

As he walked—careful, placing his feet exactly so as to not snap any twigs or turn his ankle on a stone—he took note of his surroundings. It was different, seeing them by day; they were brighter and more colorful, more alive. A bird he couldn’t identify chirped insistently in the branches. Something screeched and rustled in the bushes as he leapt over a tiny stream; he froze in a crouch until two fighting lynxes tumbled out. They didn’t notice him; wild animals rarely did.

It wasn’t until he was creeping along a log, low to the ground, that he saw the Beast. It almost looked like a normal bear; for a moment he thought it was, until he saw its eyes and the sick, shambling way that it moved. Instinctively, he went very still. _I should put it out of its misery. But…_

There wasn’t enough time, not while he was on duty. Preparing the skull and bones for a kallohonka took time, especially with something as large as a bear Beast. And he was alone without even Emil’s attempts at helping.

(He vividly remembered every time he freed a Beast’s spirit, but the first time Emil had helped had been a shock great enough that it had seared itself into his mind’s eye. Emil peeling himself away from the tank, kneeling by his side wordlessly and holding down the leg of the cow Beast so he, Lalli, could make a clean cut. Emil’s gloved hands, bloodstained but steady. Emil standing at the base of the kallohonka, watching him sing the cow’s spirit into rest.)

As the Beast trudged away, he shook his head. _I’ll be back for you, mead-paw._

The rocks were just as they’d been described. Lalli thought there had once been a road there, but it was now only chunks of asphalt and concrete; it had been cut against a cliff three times his height, the square-cut blocks of which had tumbled down into treacherous rubble. If it was safe—if there were no vermin Beasts around—it would be easy to climb up.

He was halfway up the rocks when he found out that it was not safe. The vermin Beast—some kind of rat, he thought—erupted from a crevice in the rocks and leapt for his face. Hissing, he drew his dagger and slashed at it; as it fell in two, he huffed and kept climbing. _Right. Get to the top, get the lay of the land, and leave._

The cliff loomed over a steep drop; when he reached it, he stood up and flattened himself against a tree, gazing out over the fields. Very few parts of Norway could be described as flat, but the land below him almost qualified. True, it was rocky, tree-covered, and full of dips and hollows which were the perfect size for things to hide in, but it looked more like a rumpled green bedspread than some of the near-vertical mountainsides he’d seen. Across the expanse on an opposite ridge of stone, a ruined building loomed above the tree canopy. The roof had partly caved in long ago, but in a way that had left it settled like a lid on the stony walls below it; if anything was hiding in there, it could easily have been insulated from the cold all winter long. He could see the rest of the unit making their way carefully towards it, and knew Emil was down there with them.

He started to edge along the top of the cliff. It was very narrow here, with barely enough room for him to walk, and he made sure to keep his grip on his knife handle. Where there was one vermin Beast, there were usually more—and sure enough, he was only a few feet along the ridge before a stone turned under his foot and another rat Beast scurried out from under it. Before it could turn to spring at him, he threw his knife. It wasn’t made for throwing, but it did the job; as he bent to retrieve it, he sighed. _There are so many Beasts around here. I hope Emil is having better luck._ He paused, considering that. _Then again, ‘better luck’ for him probably means there’s an excuse to blow up that old building. One day I fully expect to find him dancing around the flames and laughing._

As he made his way down the cliff where the incline was shallower, something to the northeast of his position cracked, like a lot of twigs being snapped in half at once. Or, he thought, like the wooden support beams of an old building giving way. The noise made his ears hurt, but his heart lightened. _That must be Emil._

Carefully, he headed towards it.

\--

Emil lowered his protective face mask and sucked in a breath. This far away, he didn’t risk burns, but the smell—gasoline, burning wood, melting metal, sizzling troll flesh, stone heated until it cracked—hit his nostrils hard enough to make him dizzy. His pulse pounded in his ears.

When he had first begun his Cleanser training, their sergeant had taken them to watch a controlled burn set by the more experienced members. The old woman’s voice still rang in his ears. _“Look at this! The Finns and Norwegians and Icelanders may serve their gods, but here, boys and girls—here is true power! We serve nothing more powerful than ourselves! We don’t need their gods; if we want to see divine might, all we have to do is look in the mirror!”_

He took another breath, slower this time, and thought, _Yes_.

He was not a mage, would never be a mage, but here, with the uniform of a Cleanser, he was at the very least their equal. Lalli needed a gathering storm to pray to Ukko for a lightning strike; _he_ depended on nothing more than accelerants and kindling.

_“Long ago, they said the only flame was that struck by lightning, and they thanked the gods for sending fire from the heavens. What does that make us, we who bring down the fire on earth?”_

He was dimly aware of a breeze around him, people moving, the few other Cleansers in his unit shouting orders (Swedes all, on loan from Mora and eager to work with the famed Captain Eide; they’d been less impressed with him, and he’d wondered what kind of stories his old unit were telling them), but they were shadowy things, insubstantial, inconsequential. His world was fire, and above the crackling of the flames all he could hear was his own beating heart. He breathed, and he thought the fire shifted in response, coiling around him. All of a sudden, he couldn’t stop the laughter; it came up from somewhere deep in his gut, hitting the air as a breathless little cackle of glee. _Look at me! Look at what I can do! Not so useless after all, am I? Look at the power I have!_

The roof of the old church gave way with an earsplitting crash and a shower of sparks. He didn’t flinch, but his laughter faded as something in him turned over slowly, a memory from the expedition surfacing like a whale from the depths. _I should. Find Lalli. Check on him._

He turned and walked back down the ridge, into the woods, and thought hard. _Where is he? If I were him…_ That was a stupid line of thought, and he discarded it immediately. As much as he loved him, he’d learned that it was not only useless but nearly impossible to try to think his way into Lalli’s shoes. Instead, he paused with his back against a tree and closed his eyes, trying to summon up a mental image of the terrain they’d just passed through.

 _Where would the best place be for a scout_? Well, there was the opposite cliff, a nasty-looking tumble of rocks that had “sprained ankle” written all over it as far as he was concerned—but that would be no obstacle at all for Lalli, whom Emil had actually seen walking on top of snow drifts without sinking in at all. That was closer to their original starting point than Emil thought he was likely to be, but it was a good general area to aim for.

 _I only hope he isn’t in any trouble_. There had been some of that; they’d bumped into a few Beasts, a troll had been lurking in one of the tiny streamlets and nearly bitten through Gudrun’s boot before they’d pried it off, and a hulking bear Beast had required all of them to take it down even if Sigrun claimed credit for stabbing it to death while it was trying to chew her face off. They’d left the body there, though Emil had been unable to stop himself from turning to look as they walked away (or stumbled, in Gudrun’s case). _Lalli would have known what to do about it, how to make sure it finally found peace. I’m sure he’s fine, though; he works much better alone, like he’s always saying._

But that had been in the winter. It was warmer now, and Beasts and all manner of things would be more active. Emil couldn’t shake the sudden cold feeling of worry that crawled down his spine. _He’s got more experience than me. Nothing will hurt him._

As he shouldered his way through the underbrush, he thought he heard something singing. For a moment, he trembled all over, remembering the näkki that had almost caught him—would have, if Lalli hadn’t found him and torn it apart (he’d seen all sorts of trolls, had seen Sigrun beat a troll to death with her bare hands, and yet the memory of Lalli as a blur of steel and rage made him swallow hard)—and then he took a deep breath and trudged on. That wasn’t going to happen to him again.

He splashed through a shallow creek and grinned as the realization hit him. _If my old drill sergeant saw me now, she’d freak out. Sorry, Sergeant, your least favorite private is in love with a Finnish mage who’s saved his life from things we thought only existed in storybooks. Oh, and he’s got me actually worried about the ghosts of Beasts and whether his gods will answer him. And—_ and _—he somehow loves me back._

A thud and the unmistakable sounds of a struggle reached his ears. He froze— _Lalli_ —and in the next heartbeat, he was turning and sprinting into the trees, heedless of the branches that snatched at his hair or the roots he almost tripped over. If that was Lalli, if he was hurt…

He burst through a gap between two thorn bushes and stopped, staring down at the scene in the little hollow below him.

There was Lalli. And there were trolls. One was dead, skull separated from its multi-limbed body, but two others had Lalli backed up against a stone, and there were entirely too many teeth and spikes and bony claws on display. Lalli didn’t look injured yet, at least from this angle—but when a swipe from one troll narrowly missed his face, Emil saw red.

He didn’t think. There was no room for thought, nothing beyond the urge to kill. Drawing his sword, he leapt down into the hollow and stabbed down into the closest troll, a thing taller than him with a mane of malformed spikes.

He got it in the shoulder, and it turned and snapped at him. _Shitshitshitshit—!_ Blindly, he threw himself backwards out of its way; for a second he knew only panic, and then something he’d seen used in the sparring rings arrived fully-formed in his mind. As it swiped at him with its claws, he ducked and came in low, swerving around its guard to slice its throat open. Blood sprayed his face, but the first slash didn’t kill it; snarling, he did it again and again, hacking at its neck until its head fell back and dangled by an easily-severed cord of sinew. He was only barely aware of it trying to slash at him; his uniform was thick enough that it only got the fabric. When it finally lay still, he kicked it hard in the skull for good measure.

There was still another troll. Lalli was grappling with it; Emil moved, slamming his sword blade (blunted with blood and gore; part of him noted that he’d have to clean it soon) between its spinal vertebrae until something cracked and gave way. He thought Lalli struck the killing blow; either way, the mage was the one who tossed it aside and stood there, breathing hard with blood dripping down his chest from the troll’s death.

In that dizzying moment, adrenaline pumping through him as his gaze swept slowly up his lover’s body, Emil _knew_. If it would keep Lalli safe, unharmed, he would burn Norway down to the bedrock.

\--

The trolls had come on him almost out of nowhere. He’d heard the scratches and scuffles above him, but he hadn’t thought much of them; there were enough animals about that he’d felt sure it was another squirrel or something. When the three trolls had erupted out of the pit hidden behind the rotted remains of last fall’s leaf litter, he’d barely been able to kill one before the other two had been on him—and as good of a fighter as he was, there were limits. For a terrifying few seconds, he’d been sure he was about to face his own death.

And then Emil had burst into the fray, and before Lalli could blink he’d had only one troll to fight, because Emil had started laying into the other one with Sigrun-like ferocity. He’d caught an impression of blood and steel, heard Emil snarling in rage, but now the fight was over and Emil was standing in front of him. Lalli’s heart was still hammering as he took in the sight of his boyfriend; if he wasn’t already short of breath, it might have been stolen.

 _Oh_. Emil looked…

Wild, almost—no, not wild. There was too much deliberate focus in his gaze for that. He looked _dangerous_. Covered in troll blood and black soot, hair in tousled disarray, uniform slashed here and there by the troll’s claws—Lalli was almost sure none of the blood was his—he looked like a warrior, like one of the Vikings Sigrun was always going on about. Forget _trolls_ ; he looked like he could take on the gods themselves and win.

He hadn’t sheathed his shortsword. Lalli wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

He should say something, break the spell, but words failed him. Slowly, he met Emil’s gaze and breathed in, inhaling the scent of gasoline that clung to him.

Emil took a step forward, eyes locked on his. “Are…you alright?”

Just as slowly, he breathed out. “Yes.” And then “Come here, let me prove it.”

Emil dropped his sword in the grass and was moving almost before Lalli realized it, pinning him against the stone and seizing his mouth in a ferocious kiss. Lalli melted into it with a groan, letting his own blade fall so he could slide a hand up into Emil’s hair. There was blood on his gloves, would be blood caught in Emil’s shining hair later, but in this moment he didn’t care, not with Emil seemingly intent on devouring him. He could taste smoke, and it made him shiver.

It was Emil who broke the kiss first, his voice almost a growl. “Fuck, I want you.”

 _Yes_. There didn’t need to be words in response to that, not really; Lalli yanked him closer, and Emil went willingly, one hand sliding to his hip as the other unzipped the collar of his sweater. Lalli gasped and arched as Emil broke away from his mouth to start sucking marks on his throat instead, the faint sweet sting of teeth sending sizzling pleasure down his spine. He seemed determined to ravish him and Lalli was entirely in the mood to let it happen, especially since it was all too rare of an occurrence; Emil usually liked it slow and lingering when he initiated things.

Hmm. Come to think of it, all the other times like this, with Emil half-frenzied and intense, had _also_ been just after he had gotten away from seeing some action in the field. Lalli didn’t really have the mental space to ponder that, though, not when Emil was grinding against him, thigh nudging his legs apart and pressing insistently against his rapidly hardening cock. When Lalli rolled his hips in response, he was immensely gratified to hear Emil moan against him, feel teeth scraping just a bit harder.

And then those teeth nipped, a sharp sting that wasn’t quite pain, and he couldn’t stop his shuddering gasp of “Gods, don’t stop…”

“Won’t.” A slow grind set his nerves on fire; when Emil pulled away, Lalli almost hissed until he realized that he was only moving just far enough to get a hand properly between them and reach for the fastenings on Lalli’s pants.

Lalli sucked in a breath, fingers tightening in his hair. This was never very smooth, not when Emil seemed to be incapable of breaking contact with the side of his neck long enough to actually see what he was doing; every fumbling almost-touch made his cock twitch. When Emil finally freed his erection, he almost whimpered. _Gods, but I need you…_

Emil didn’t make him wait. He was barely exposed to the cool air before a gloved hand wrapped around his length, stroking firmly. The texture was an unfamiliar one after so many months of the luxury of having a bed and privacy; when Lalli bucked into it, Emil kissed him thoroughly enough to swallow his moan. “You feel so hot…”

“Nnh, fuck, Emil…” He was trembling all over; pressed so firmly against the stone behind him by Emil’s weight and the elbow that had wound up braced by his head, he was acutely aware he was at his mercy. It drove him crazy; with all the gear Emil was wearing he couldn’t rake his nails down his body, so he dug them into the nape of his neck and was rewarded with a rough groan. Suddenly, desperately, he wanted to be back in their bed in the longhouse—or, failing that, any conveniently flat surface with lube and no pressing matters to attend to. He wanted to be _fucked_ ; with Emil like this, it was bound to be a deliciously wild experience.

A rippling movement of Emil’s fingers drove all thoughts of that out of his head. His boyfriend was actually grinning, fierce and sharp, as he stroked him; when he lowered his head again to nip sharply at the base of his throat, Lalli’s whole body jerked. It was incredible but it wasn’t enough, he could feel Emil’s erection pressing into his thigh and he wanted to _touch_. Blindly, he worked a hand between them and unzipped his pants, feeling him gasp against his throat as he took him in a firm grip and stroked hard.

Emil shuddered and sped up his own pace. Lalli let his head fell back against the rock, staring up at the trees without really seeing them as he bucked into each stroke. “Fuck, please—more of _that_ —” His words came out in entirely unintentional Finnish but that was alright, Emil surely couldn’t mistake them for anything other than pleasure—

He was stopping. Why was he stopping, Lalli was going to _kill_ him—oh, he was shifting his weight to press their cocks together, wrapping his hand around both at once, and Lalli keened softly at the shocks of pleasure it sent through him. Emil wasted no time setting the pace, fast and almost rough, and Lalli could do nothing but roll his hips into their shared grip in response. As Emil started to lavish attention on his exposed throat again, he gasped and clawed at the back of his neck, hoping that Emil would understand the wordless encouragement for _more_ and _harder_.

He did. As he moved, pleasurable friction sending waves of arousal crashing through them both, Lalli writhed; he was achingly close, knew it would only be a matter of time, and when Emil’s kisses turned to bites he couldn’t hold out any longer. “ _Ah_ \-- _!_ ” He wanted to scream, clenched his jaw to avoid it, but as he bucked and spilled himself over their hands his voice came out in a growl anyway. Emil followed a moment after, groaning against his skin.

For a long moment after letting go of each other, they simply breathed. Emil rested his forehead on Lalli’s shoulder; Lalli took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his heart racing. Now that he could think again, other sensations were helpfully making themselves known—namely, that he was sticky, itchy, had been leaning against a protruding bit of stone that was actually jabbing quite uncomfortably into his lower back, and (thanks largely to Emil) had troll blood on places he did not really want to have troll blood on.

He opened his eyes again, eying what he could see of his boyfriend’s face. “…Does anyone ever tell you that you have…a _thing_ about fire? Because I think you do.”

Emil’s ears went red. “Um.”

He sighed fondly at him, caressing the back of his neck (and, he noted, dislodging some of the dried blood stuck in his hair). “I’m not complaining. I _like_ seeing you like that.” As he shifted, hissing a little at the renewed ache in his back, he couldn’t help but smirk. “And feeling it.”

Emil was quiet for long enough that Lalli almost started to worry; when he moved, it was only to lift his head and press a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Mm. Okay, then.” And then his eyebrows knit in worry. “So, uh. How are we going to get cleaned up?”

Lalli winced. “…I think we’re going to have to suffer. Sigrun is probably looking for us.”

\--

Sigrun was looking for them. Worse, she smirked and waggled her eyebrows at them when they slunk into the back of the loosely formed drift that was the rest of their unit. Emil was sure he’d never stop blushing, but when Lalli slipped a hand into his as they walked…well. It was sort of hard to be embarrassed after that; hard to be anything but pleased, really. And it wasn’t such a long walk back to the longhouse and its blessedly hot showers, which Emil was _longing_ for. Dear God, there was blood in places he never wanted blood to be—there was even blood in his _hair_. Yes, he thought, a hot shower would be a godsend right now.

As they approached the longhouse, most of the unit peeled away, leaving only himself, Lalli, and Sigrun to trudge up the hill. They’d barely reached the door when it slid open, and an officer Emil vaguely recognized as one of Sigrun’s mother’s orderlies stood on the other side.

“Captain Eide! We’ve just received a radio message for you from…” The officer paused, looking down at his notepad. “From Skald…Tuuri Hotakainen in Mora.” He said her name wrong; it grated on Emil’s ears.

Sigrun beamed at him. “Aw, I missed that little fuzz-head! What’d she say?”

“She says…uh. She’s done with her lectures for the time being, she’d love to visit, she’s heard from Herr Madsen and he thinks he can get away from the farm for a week or so—he has a farm?—and that…uh, _Kitty_ is going to be a fine Grade A cat. And Herr Árnason’s doing very well with his studies but that he’ll have to pass on coming to Dalsnes because…” A few pages ruffled. “Oh, he’s using the break from school to visit his boyfriend.”

As Sigrun whooped and punched the air, Emil felt the world tilt around him in shock. “Wait. Reynir’s dating someone? Who?” _Where did he even find the time to meet anyone?_

Lalli made a face. “…Onni.”

“ _What_.” Another question followed hot on the heels of the first one. “How do you know? And why didn’t you tell me?”

His boyfriend actually looked slightly embarrassed. “The way _you_ wake me up…I forgot. Reynir told me in the dreamscape. He seemed to think he should ask for my blessing.”

Despite himself, Emil felt a morbid curiosity. Onni was terrifying—but if he was dating _Reynir_ , the human embodiment of an overeager crème puff… “Did you grant it?”

Lalli snorted. “If he wants to date Onni, it’s his funeral.”

“Guys!” Sigrun’s celebratory smack on the back made him wince. “Isn’t this great? The gang’s gonna be almost all together again!”

He found himself smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty great.”


End file.
